Seven Nation Army
by Undertaker's Madness
Summary: A hostile takeover of Dispatch is in the works, and the reapers find themselves caught in the middle of it. Some join the enemy, while others resist or stay neutral. The bonds of friendship and loyalty are put to the ultimate test as the opposition threatens to take over all branches globally. Collaboration with StickieBun and DareDreemer. Yaoi, mpreg
1. Chapter 1

**Pairings:** EricxAlan, WilliamxRonald, UndertakerxGrell

**Main Roles:**  
Xenobiacat: Undertaker, Eric, William (Chapters 9+), OC-Alex, TBA  
StickieBun13: Ronald, Alan, Grell (Chapters 9+), TBA  
DareDreemer: William, Grell (Chapters 1-9)

**Summary:** A hostile takeover of Dispatch is in the works, and the reapers find themselves caught in the middle of it. Some join the enemy, while others resist or stay neutral. The bonds of friendship and loyalty are put to the ultimate test as the opposition threatens to take over all branches globally.

**Generas:** Action, Drama, Romance, humor

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. We make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso. We make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

Sunset was falling on the Shinigami realm. Skyscrapers of an archeology build not yet found in the mortal realm reflected the orange-yellow glow off the multiple windows of the buildings, and pigeons flew past them. The design of the metropolis was set up in concentric circles, representing something of an iris. In the very center of this supernatural province was a superstructure of a more advanced build: Headquarters to the Shinigami Dispatch Association. The skyscraper reached up to the heavens, looking over the London Shinigami city.

William T. Spears—supervisor of the Shinigami Dispatch department—sat at his desk, going through his files for perhaps the sixth time since finding what he believed to be an encrypted code in one of them. With a frown of concentration, he continued to work on it until he figured out a way to decrypt it.

He wished he'd never done that. The moment he broke the security code and saw the message: "Dispatch operator Levitz", his computer began to beep and blip at him. Then a code of numbers sprang up and his entire database became compromised.

"Oh, bloody hell," cursed William. He did his best to salvage it, and while he was in the process of doing that, Ronald Knox came into his office.

"Hey boss, I'm about to head out for the night," informed the blond. He walked over to William's desk and dropped his file folder of reports on it to be processed. "Er…you okay?"

William rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shook his head. "No, Ronald Knox, I am most assuredly not okay at this moment. I believe someone has hacked into our network and…and…oh, hell."

Ronald leaned over the desk with a frown, sticking his face in front of the computer screen. "What?"

William stood up, grabbed him by the arm and nearly yanked it out of the socket. "Go. Just go, Ronald."

They made it to the door and William found it locked. He frowned and he tried his keycard. It didn't work. Ronald's babbled questions certainly weren't helping anything. An odd vapor began to come in through the air conditioning vents, and it smelled of sulfur.

"Ronald, don't breathe," he warned his confused underling, narrowing his eyes.

"Boss, what the hell's going on?" demanded Ronald.

"I said don't breathe!" snapped the supervisor. It seemed a mild threat considering their kind didn't require oxygen to live, but he could not draw breath to call for security and considering how this had just happened, he wasn't certain he truly wanted to. The purpose of the gas became clear to him as the fumes made his eyes sting, and Ronald coughed a complaint.

"Oh, honestly," Choked William, looking at the floor-to-ceiling pane of window facing out over the city.

This was going to hurt.

* * *

"Mister Knox, do remain calm. We cannot draw attention to ourselves. Let us first find a hotel and get checked in. We cannot stay in the open, even here. It is far to dangerous and our wounds need attending." William spoke firmly as he knelt down before the frightened young reaper, who had collapsed, exhausted and in pain after their turbulent port to the mortal realm.

Currently, they were hidden in an alley, but at any moment a mortal or reaper could discover them. It was imperative that they find a hiding place; and fast. There had been no time to make it to either dispatch officer's home to collect clothing or other important personal items. No, they had been forced to flee with only the clothes on their backs. Now stranded in the mortal realm, their home cut off from them, William looked towards the streets of London. They had to find a safe place, figure out who they could and could not trust, and how to stay alive.

"Calm down? Were you not in there with me? Did you not see what filled your office?! Fuck! Senpai! Someone tried to kill us—or you—but I was there too, so _us_! It's not right! I don't care how pissed off people are about any overtime you give them! An assassination attempt is _way_ over-reacting!" Ronald huffed, bending over and breathing hard, "Rhea's fuck! I can't _breathe_!" The young blond coughed and looked up at William, "What was that all about, anyway?"

"Honestly, Mister Knox?" Will's brows both raised in question. After a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "I really cannot say. But it appears I stumbled upon something I was not suppose to and now…"

Will stood up and looked towards the sky. He sighed before he looked back down at the dumbfounded blond. "We're being hunted."

"And you pull me into the hunt? I thought you liked me, Senpai!" Ron complained, starting up, "So where do we go? Can't go home now. So much for finding a date for tonight…" he sighed and walked to the end of the alley, peeking out at the humans going about their business.

William watched as the blond waked to the edge of the ally. He frowned as another sigh escaped him. "I know of a hotel, not far from here. We can stay there for a night or two. I have some money on my person—enough for the room, a couple days worth of food and two sets of clothing for the both of us, along with a few necessary items. We can lay our plan out as soon as we arrive at the location and settle into our rooms."

"I have some cash on me, too, but not an impressive amount. I don't like having too much on me in case I drink too much—I'll end up drinking away my wallet if I get too drunk. But I can pitch it in for helping out. Man, this _sucks_!" He huffed and turned back to look at William, "Where's this hotel? This area isn't near my pubs, so I don't know the area as well."

"The hotel is just around the corner and down one block. Not far. It's respectable and we will have plenty of privacy. Shall we be on our way?" Will replied as he stepped alongside the blond. His eyes began to wander up and down the boulevard. "I do believe the coast is clear."

Ronald nodded, looking down at his signature white shoes as they stepped out side-by-side and headed down the cobblestone sidewalk towards the hotel. "Senpai…have you any clue as to what all that was about? I can't seem to wrap my mind around it. We are on the run and I haven't the faintest idea as to why or from whom."

William looked over at his companion, then looked straight ahead. "I didn't get a good look, but before the screen went haywire, there was a list of reapers. My name was at the top and then there was a message about treason." He sighed as they began to cross the street. "I wish my memory would serve me better, but regrettably I was overcome with thoughts of escape and survival. What I did see is vague to me. The only thing I am certain of is that we are in danger and Dispatch is being cast into chaos as we speak. Who is behind it? Your guess would be as good as mine."

"Well, I don't like it!" Ronald huffed, crossing his arms, "I'd rather have overtime—and you _know_ how much I loathe the idea of overtime!" He sighed, taking a deep breath and letting it out, lacing his fingers behind his head as he walked, looking up at the sky, "Hey, boss…what you did back there—you know, using yourself as a wrecking ball to that window to get us out of there…that was kinda cool."

Scoffing, Will paused on the pavement and turned to the blond. "It was nothing more than me trying to save our lives. There was nothing 'cool' about it, Mister Knox. Would you rather we had stayed and discovered first hand what was going on? Though I doubt we would be alive if we had."

"I probably would have thrown a chair if it had been me to think of a way out first." Ronald shrugged, "You got all into it. One minute you were scolding me for breathing and then the next—no more window. No matter the reason for it, it was still cool!"

William rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses before resuming his steps and continuing onto the hotel. The title of being cool was redundant to him. He had strictly reacted on instinct. It was either stay and meet their end or jump and live another day.

"Not much further, Mister Knox." He stated as the hotel came into view. "Hopefully rooms will still be available as the season has just begun here. Society has returned to their capital."

"If not, we'd have to find a different place, I guess." Ronald shrugged, "What sucks is that we shouldn't stay here too long. If we _are_ being hunted like you said, we should keep moving."

"A night or two we can afford. However, I do concur with you. No more than that or we will be found out." Will agreed, but his shoulder was beginning to ache where a large shard of glass had cut into the fabric of his coat, scratched beneath his white dress shirt and into his flesh. He would heal, but the wound still required medical attention and a good night's rest. Subconsciously, he reached up began to rub it.

"We may also need to find mortal work or something to help pay for—is something wrong with your shoulder?" Ronald fell in step behind William and looked closer, "Oh—shit! That looks like it hurts!"

William glanced at the blond. Snarkily, he scoffed: "You _do_ know how to use that odd coloured head of yours, don't you? I have just assumed all this time your head was full of nothing but liquor and the cheap perfume of all the ladies you chase after. I am quite astonished, Mister Knox. As for my shoulder… it is indeed hurt, but shall heal."

"Not with that glass shard in it like that!" he insisted, "We need to get it out, clean it and bandage it up—and just so you know, I am a _whole_ lot smarter than you give me credit for!" he crossed his arms defensively, "And I'm not a skirt-chaser!"

"Not a skirt chaser, Mister Knox? And yet all day long you do nothing but flirt and ogle the ladies in Affairs. If you put half of that energy into your work, just think how much further you would be by now and in such a short time frame. I daresay, Ronald Knox, that you are a fine reaper…you just lack discipline." William argued back, ignoring the bit about his arm. He was in a foul mood, tired and quite frankly pissed at whoever was behind the incident in his office.

"I see nothing wrong with wanting to see people smile! And they have the most dull job, of course I'll try to get them to smile—it doesn't mean I want t' get in their pants!" Ronald defended.

Sighing, William stopped and narrowed his eyes on the blond. "Are you saying, Mister Knox, that you are not interested in any of the ladies you pay attention to?"

"Of course I'm interested in them. Just not date-wise, no. We're all just friends." Ronald shrugged, "They aren't my type, anyways."

William, adjusted his glasses and started walking again. "You are the most confusing reaper, Mister Knox."

The steps of the hotel now lay before them and William stopped and looked up to the front doors of the building. The hotel was busy. Mortals flowed in and out of the acclaimed hotel. He quickly glanced at the blond before climbing the staircase.

He reached the doors first and pulled one open, allowing a pair of ladies to step out from inside. He bowed and wished them a good day, then ushered Ronald in ahead of him.

"Pardon me, we would like two rooms for two nights." Will requested as he smiled pleasantly at the desk attendant, in the lobby. The man was a short, dark-haired gentleman and he wore a matching moustache above his top lip.

"Nh, nope, no good." The man said, flipping through his book, "We're booked—almost. we only have one room, sir."

Ronald snickered, "Then we'll take one room." he looked at William and grinned, "I promise no parties in the room, Senpai."

William glared at Ronald, then smiled back at the man behind the desk. "Surely you must be mistaken? There is no way we can room together." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing in the process. "At least, please tell me, there are two beds in the room?"

"Might be." The man shrugged, taking the last key off the wall of hooks behind him, "I'm filling in fer my brother-in-law… 'e's sick this week. 'e owns the place. I just book the rooms. Sign 'ere please." he pointed to the book and Ronald took the pen, dipping it in the inkwell before signing his name.

"Don't look so disappointed. What choice do we have?" he set the pen down and counted out what they needed for the room and handed it over in exchange for the key which had their room number written on a tag attached to it. "I don't bite, Willie."

"Don't call me 'Willie', Mister Knox," Will all but growled as he headed for the staircase leading to the upper floors of the hotel.

Ronald shrugged and hurried after him, "You need to loosen up a bit," he suggested. "I think that glass shard is pinching your stress nerves even tighter. Room two-ten, by the way."

* * *

"Eric, you're driving awfully fast," scolded Alan as his partner's golden sports car sped through a traffic light and peeled rubber around a corner. The younger reaper was gripping the sides of his seat with white-knuckled hands, and he'd gone pale with alarm. Eric was an excellent driver and he liked to do racing courses now and then, but he'd never driven this aggressively in the city, with Alan in the car.

The Scotsman glanced in his rearview mirror again, as if checking to be sure there was no pursuit. "Sorry Al. I've go' mah reasons."

"M-mind telling me what those reasons are?" Alan swallowed as they approached an intersection. "Red light. Eric, there's a _red light_ ahead!"

Eric didn't slow down. He switched lanes upon seeing the van up ahead of him so that he'd have no obstacles. "'S fine, Alan. I know these lights. It'll change."

"Oh Death help us," whined the brunet, squeezing his eyes shut.

The light did indeed change to green, mere seconds before Eric drove through it. Alan's eyes popped open and he compressed his lips, giving his blond companion a stern glare. "Eric Cameron Slingby, if you don't stop this vehicle I swear I'll put in for a transfer to another partner!"

Eric glanced at him and grimaced, knowing better than to brush off the threat. He obligingly slowed down, but he didn't pull over. "Jus' wait 'till we get ou' of the central iris. Trust me, Alan."

The layout of the London Shinigami metropolis was in concentric circles, the streets and buildings laid out like a big wheel. It was designed to represent an eye, and their were six sectors in all referred to as irises. The "pupil" of the great city was where Dispatch Headquarters and the courthouse were located, and the Great Library was the only building off by itself, separate from the sprawling city on an island a short distance from the ocean shoreline.

"I want to know what's going on!"

The bigger man clenched his jaw and looked ahead, the dying rays of sunlight flashing on his blue-tinted glasses. "I cannae tell ya, but I'm doin' this fer yer own good."

"What, trying to give me a heart attack?" persisted Alan. He felt a warning tightness in his chest; not from a heart attack, but from the curse that he'd contracted due to his own sympathy for his reaping targets. He took a few deep, slow breaths until it ebbed, and he sighed in relief that it didn't turn into another full-blown attack.

Eric gave him a guilty look, and he reached out to lay one big, tanned hand over Alan's knee. "Sorry fer scarin' ya."

Alan looked down at the hand on his knee and he flushed a little, his pale, sculpted features betraying a mixture of confusion and excitement as the simple touch made a thrill go through him. It wasn't easy to stay angry with him. He'd always found his partner attractive, with his wavy blond hair, strong build and handsome features. Then there was that accent…it made Alan melt inside.

He couldn't think of anything to say, and he lamented the loss of Eric's touch when he took his hand off his knee to shift down. They pulled up at one of the small parks in the fourth iris after a while—the one a few blocks from Alan's apartment—and Eric sighed and twisted in the driver's seat to look at him full-on.

"I wish I could explain everythin' tae ya, sweetheart, but there's no time fer it. Ya need tae vanish fer a while, understand?"

No, he _didn't_ understand…not one bit. "But—"

"Here." Eric dug out his wallet and fished out several hundred dollar notes of Shinigami cash. "Take this. Go pack some things an' get a hotel somewhere ou' of tha city. Ditch yer cellphone an' get ano'er one, too. Call me on it so I can put tha number in ma contacts under some bogus name. I'll contact ya when it's safe again. Dinnae call anyone else, nor trust 'em."

"Safe from what?" Wide-eyed, Alan didn't move to take the money. "I have a right to know what kind of danger you're trying to protect me from!"

"I'll explain it all later," insisted Eric. Alan gasped as he rolled up the bills and shoved them in his pants pocket without warning. "Jus' trust me. Ya know I'd ne'er put ye in harm's way."

"But it sounds like you're putting _yourself_ in harms way…or you're high on something."

Eric smirked. "I'm totally clean an' sober. Believe me, I wish it were o'erwise righ' about now."

The only thing more confusing than this situation was the term of endearment his partner had used on him when he'd put his hand on his knee. To make it even worse, Eric cupped the back of his head and closed in for a kiss. Alan was too stunned to do anything more than sit there like a ball-joint-doll at first, and then the Scotsman's tongue slid past his parted lips into his mouth, and the brunet closed his eyes and whimpered. Alan grabbed hold of the other reaper's blazer and returned the caresses of his tongue, feeling like liquid heat was spreading through his whole body.

It lasted for a few moments, until Alan was weak in the knees and blushing with passion. Eric pulled away and stared at him with love in his eyes that he'd kept concealed during their partnership, until now.

"Go on now, love," murmured the blond. "Do as I said an' stay safe."

He unbuckled Alan's seatbelt and he reached across him to open the door for him. Now thoroughly bewildered, the younger reaper slowly got out of the vehicle. He immediately regretted doing so when Eric shut and locked the door and then pulled out of the parking space to leave.

"Eric," called Alan helplessly. "Eric! Stop! I still don't…"

The golden sportscar drove away, the color of it reminding Alan of its driver's thick mane of hair. "…understand," sighed Alan. He started to walk to his apartment. Thankfully his car was there, since Eric picked him up for work this morning. It was all so surreal, and Alan wondered who he could have angered enough to want him dead. He could only assume that was the case. Feeling more alone than ever, the brunet traversed the streets with his head down, his hand in his pocket cupping the roll of money given to him.

"Call me 'sweetheart', kiss me and drive off," mumbled Alan to himself. "You crazy…"

He couldn't even bring himself to think up a derogatory word for his partner. Eric was truly afraid for him, and confused though he was, Alan _did_ trust him. He just hoped the man would eventually explain to him why he had to hide away.

* * *

A young woman with flowing brown hair and long legs walked into Dispatch Headquarters just after the sun went down. She wore tall red heels with ruby studded skulls on the back of them, a knee-length black skirt that split up the right side and a lacy red spaghetti-strap top with a gossamer black, long-sleeved shirt over it. Her red glasses complimented her footwear, also decorated with little skulls. She sauntered in with purpose in her green-gold eyes, and she blew a kiss to one of the security guards when he eyed her with appreciation in passing. Chuckling at the flustered look on the man's face, she considered flirting further with him and seeing if she could get a gentleman's company for the night.

Alas though…he was with _them_. He wouldn't be working in this building for much longer—unless he did the sensible thing like she had. She went to the elevators and pulled out her phone as she got in to ascend to the upper floors. Checking the text she'd received earlier, she sighed.

"Oh Will…if only there could have been another way."

The news that he'd escaped and managed to vanish just an hour ago didn't exactly sit wrong with her, though. Apparently Ronald Knox had been with him, and now both were at large. "Not the best start to a corporate take-over," she murmured. But at least Spears was alive. If anyone was going to reap that man, it would be her.

The elevator stopped halfway to her destination, and a familiar, handsome Scottish reaper was waiting on the other side. "Goin' up, Miss?" asked Eric with one of those flirty little smiles he couldn't seem to help.

She giggled. He didn't recognize her. "Why yes I am, Officer Slingby. Please, join me."

"Dinnae mind if I do." He stepped inside and he started to select his floor, but stopped when he saw the button that was already lit up. "What do ya know; we're goin' tae tha same floor."

"Of course we are, darling." The woman's smile altered, her straight white teeth drawing into shark-toothed points. The female form melted away to reveal the slim, graceful build of an androgynous one—physiologically male. The brown shade of hair brightened, the color seeming to slide off of it to be replaced by a vivid red shade not generally found in nature.

Eric smirked. "Up tae yer tricks again, aye?"

Grell laughed and leaned back against the support bar. "At least _they_ appreciate my tricks and allow me to put them to good use. It was so easy to get in close to my target and be rid of him. Where is Alan?"

Eric shrugged. "Went home early. Said he wasnae feelin' too hot."

"Hmm, poor thing. Well, he has his handsome lion to take care of him, doesn't he?" Grell winked at the taller reaper. He genuinely liked Alan. Unlike certain _other_ agents, he never made him feel like a freak or a failure.

"It's no' like tha' wi' us," insisted Eric with a frown.

"I was merely stating a fact. I never said you were lovers—though I could hardly blame him if he ever decided to change that." Grell let his gaze travel over Eric's pleasing form briefly. "How did your assignment go?"

"I took care of it," answered Eric shortly. "It was done by noon."

"You're letting it get to you," observed Grell slyly. "Remember, it's for the greater good. Your sweet little partner that you are so passionately denying having the hots for may survive the Thorns yet, if you just do what they ask of you. Isn't that worth getting rid of a few pesky obstacles?"

Eric glanced at him. "Including William?"

Grell sighed. "William was to be detained, not killed…and you needn't worry about that now. He escaped tonight with Ronnie."

Eric frowned. "What d'ya mean, 'escaped'? They weren't s'posed tae move in on tha man 'till tha other execs were replaced an' disguised."

Grell shrugged. "Well, it seems Willykins found a file he wasn't meant to see, and when the stubborn man tried to decrypt it, the failsafe was set off and our friends were alerted to it. Unfortunately, the tear gas failed to subdue him in time to be collected. He and Ronnie broke one of the windows in his office and jumped out, if you can believe that!"

The Scotsman's brows shot up. "That's a helluva fall. Are ye tellin' me they couldnae catch 'em a'fore they could recover?"

"I don't know exactly what happened after that," answered Grell. "All I was told is that the two of them managed to vanish and they're trying to keep things quiet while they send covert agents looking for them."

"The boss fallin' forty stories tae land in tha street is a thing people would notice," reasoned Eric.

"Not necessarily. He chose the window overlooking the alleyway, apparently."

"Ah." Eric nodded. "Smart. They coulda' jumped o'er to tha next building an' shimmied their way down, withou' attractin' a lot of attention."

Grell spread his hands. "Who knows? All I know is they might not be so willing to simply capture and imprison him now."

"An' how do ya know they really meant tae do tha' in tha first place?"

Grell looked at him, slightly disconcerted. "Because those were my terms when I signed on."

"Mm-hmm. And Ronnie? He was yer trainee."

"He was part of the deal," Grell insisted. "And so far they've given me no reason to believe they won't keep their end of the bargain."

Eric looked at the glowing numbers over the door as they lit up with each floor. "Hope yer right abou' tha'."

Grell looked at his companion's profile. "You do know they're going to want to bring Alan into this, now that the ball is dropping."

The Scotsman's jaw tightened. "Aye. I know."

* * *

He and Grell made it to their floor and Eric waited for the crimson reaper to step out before following. He kept his expression nonchalant and his stance loose as he strolled into their acting superior's office with his companion to give his report. He closed the door behind him and locked it before nodding at the refined man of middle-aged appearance with silver streaks in his brown hair. "My target's taken care of, Mr…_Anderson_."

Lawrence Anderson threaded his fingers together atop his glass desk. "Well done. And you, Sutcliff?" He looked to Grell.

Grell flopped down in the chair across from the glass desk, crossing one leg over the other. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a nail file. Briefly he closed his eyes, before looking back up at the older reaper. "I did what was asked of me. You, however, promised that William would not be harmed and now rumor has it he and Ronald Knox are on the run. There is also a rather impressive price put on their heads."

Blowing a bubble from the gum he was presently chewing, Grell began to file his nails. "I don't take kindly to being double-crossed. If you want my cooperation and for me to continue doing your dirty work, _Anderson_… I suggest you call off the bounty."

"The bounty is for them to be brought in," assured Father Anderson. "I have no issues with putting word out with heavy emphasis on the 'alive' portion of that, however. Now, I think we should…excuse me Mr. Slingby, but there is no smoking allowed here."

Eric continued to light up his slim clove cigar with a shrug. He leaned over the elder's desk and blew a smoke ring at him. "Yeah? But ya smoke yer pipe in here all th' time, Pops…or didja forget tha' little fact?"

Anderson compressed his lips with annoyance. "Don't push it…either of you. Sutcliff, do stop popping that gum."

Eric smirked as the redhead succinctly blew a big bubble and popped it. He stepped back and took another drag.

"Ya used tae give Grell bubble gum all th' time too, sir. Yer memory needs some refreshers."

Grell giggled in his head as he watched the way Eric got under the older reaper's skin. Deliberately, he blew an even larger bubble and popped it. "Don't press me. I am here for one reason and one reason only. I don't give a flying fuck about your cause. I just want to make sure my friends are safe. You keep them safe and I'll do anything you ask of me." He narrowed his eyes on Anderson. "Got it?"

Mr. Anderson cleared his throat. "At any rate, We need to discuss your partner. I believe it's time for Humphries to be brought into it."

Eric's expression hardened slightly, but he relaxed again and shrugged. "Figured as much."

"You stand the greatest chance of convincing him, Slingby. He looks up to you. It's time for you to use that influence to bring him into the fold. What are his current whereabouts?"

Eric glanced out the window absently. "Went home, last I saw him. He said he wasnae feelin' too hot, so he clocked ou' an' took a cab."

"Then I suggest you pay him a visit and have a discussion with him, when you leave this building for the evening. You are both dismissed. Get out of my office."

Eric snorted at his use of words, and he gave Grell's shoulder a warning squeeze when it looked as though the redhead might explode at that last bit. "Happy tae oblige. Come on, Grell. Smells like tuna in here, anyways."

Grell stood and glared at Lawrence, his top lip curled in disgust. "Don't cross me, _Anderson_. I am warning you."

He turned to Eric and nodded. "I agree it does reek of tuna in here…_dead_ tuna, and I don't care to smell _rotten_ fish. Lets go. I need to get some fresh air."

Eric nodded in agreement and opened the door for them both. When they were outside in the hall, he waved at the redhead. "See ya later, Grell. I'm goin' tae check on Alan."

As soon as he got to his own office floor, Eric went into said office and pulled out his phone to check for any messages he might have missed. He'd put his phone on silence before going to Anderson's office, because he didn't want to chance Alan calling him while in the presence of others and having to speak in code in front of them.

There was nothing. Nothing except a text giving him his next target. Eric sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of one of his windows, looking out at the darkening skyline.

~Come on, Al. Don' make me have tae go o'er there before I know yer out an' gone. Cannae risk 'em followin' me tae keep tabs an' find ya still there.~

He kept his thoughts to himself, not even daring to speak them aloud in his own office. There were eyes and ears everywhere, at all times. He wasn't even sure he could trust Grell not to spill the beans if he confided in him. The redhead wanted to keep William and Ronald alive, sure…but there was no guarantee he wouldn't turn Alan in if it furthered his ambiguous goals. There was only one reaper alive out there that Eric knew he could trust completely now…and he'd betrayed him and their organization with his own actions.

* * *

He knew they were coming. He knew why. The whispers of the dead told him far more than the harsh voices of the living, and Undertaker was more than ready to give them a proper reception. He waited patiently in his coffin as he heard the door to his shop creak open, followed by the sound of the bell. Suppressing a snicker, he listened to the Dispatch agents speak to one another as they began to look around the mortuary.

"I'm not sure I believe it," one of them said. "If the ancient one can raise the dead, why hasn't he done anything with them yet? What's the purpose?"

"He's a mad-man," answered another voice in disgust. "He doesn't _need_ a reason."

Someone else said something in German and another reaper answered in the same language. Undertaker frowned in thought at that. It wasn't unheard of for London Dispatch to have agents transferred from other branches when they were really low on staff, but they generally only sent them out on reaping assignments if they couldn't speak English. He heard someone speak in Finnish next, and his brows went up. _That_ language he could understand—though it had been so long since he'd spoken it he was somewhat rusty.

They wanted to recruit him. He'd been a bit off on his original assumption. He thought they were coming to try and arrest him, and perhaps they still intended to do that for the purpose of coercing him back into the fold, but he supposed it didn't really matter. Either way, they weren't welcome. He _was_ curious as to why they had two Germans and a Finn with them, though.

"Undertaker," called one of them in a British accent, "are you in here? My name is Loren Ferguson, and I am an officer of Dispatch. Please come out so that we may speak on an important matter."

The ancient reaper smiled. He had no intention of coming out to greet them, but he had some…friends…that would. He closed his eyes and worked his dark will, calling silently to his sleeping children closed up in the other coffins in the shop. The lids creaked open in unison, and one of the German reapers spat out a surprised inquiry.

"_Was ist das_?"

The mortician muffled a snicker behind his sleeve as the sounds of dead throats moaning filled the room, and a scuffle broke out.

"It's not stopping!" hollered the one named Ferguson.

_~Of course it's not stopping, fool boy,~_ thought the mortician with amusement. _~The dead aren't so easily reaped as th' living.~_

Undertaker wished he had a peep-hole to see what was going on, but his imagination was painting a lovely picture from the ruckus alone. A gun went off—which actually startled him a bit because he'd never heard of a Dispatch agent using such a weapon as a reaping tool—and there were curses in three different languages. One of the reapers screamed in pain, and there was the sound of something heavy thumping on the floor.

Deciding it was time for the final act, Undertaker called forth some other little friends from the bowels of the catacombs beneath his shop. A hidden panel opened up in the wall of his basement, and hundreds of bats came out. They flew through the corridor leading into the shop from the back, the flap of their wings and shrieks almost deafening. The frantic voices of the uninvited reapers grew louder as they now had the flying mammals to deal with.

"It's in my hair! Get it out!"

Undertaker couldn't contain his laughter now, but the commotion happening outside his coffin was loud enough to cover it up.

"_Unohda tätä_!" cried the Finnish reaper, obviously having his fill of the entire affair. His companions must have agreed with him even if they couldn't understand his words. The sound of their footsteps hastily retreating came next, followed by the slam of the door.

Undertaker finally stepped out of his coffin and he banished his winged friends with a wave of his hands. They flocked together in an orderly fashion and flew back to where they came from. "Matilda," warned the mortician when the blond female doll in the ragged wedding gown tried to shuffle out the door after the reapers. She stopped at the sound of her master's voice and turned jerkily to regard him. Undertaker shook his head. "Not now, darlin'. That goes for the rest of you. We can't have you seen on the streets now, can we?"

The dolls went still, complying with his command. Undertaker looked at the puddles of blood on his floor and he shrugged. He noticed that Matilda was missing an arm and he found it lying near a coffin, twitching. "Oh dear…look at what they did t' your poor arm. Hrm, well that's easily enough fixed. Matilda love, go into the lab and lie down on the table. Henry, spit that ear out of your mouth or swallow it. I thought I told you not to play with your food."

The farmer doll that had evidently bitten off one of the agent's ears chewed it sloppily and swallowed it. Undertaker nodded and he stepped aside to allow Matilda past. "Now all of you—except for her—retire to your coffins again, yeah?"

They moaned in accord and shuffled off to the individual caskets assigned to them. Undertaker walked to his front door, grabbing his hat off the rack near it and cramming it on before stepping outside to look for the intruders. He was just in time to see all five of them running through a portal one of them had created to the Shinigami realm. One of them had his hand clamped over the bloody hole where his ear had been.

Undertaker grinned mischievously and tipped his hat. "Toodles, gents. Feel free to drop by again any time."

With a cackle of glee, the ancient reaper retreated back into his shop and locked the door.

* * *

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken Alan a lot longer than he'd expected to pack a few necessities when he returned to his small but warm and comfortable apartment. The main room and kitchen were tidy and neat, but his bedroom was rather messy. His bed was almost completely covered in stuffed animal toys. A collection that had grown quite a bit since he had been diagnosed with the Thorns of Death. Those closest to him would sometimes bring him stuffed animals of different kinds rather than flowers when he ended up in the hospital a little longer than a few hours. Among the collection was a red cat with a big red bow from Grell, an orange frog with a goofy smile from Ronald, and a soft brown rabbit from Eric.

As he dug through the casual clothes in a pile on his floor for clean underpants, Alan's eyes had caught sight of the rabbit and he hesitated before grabbing it off his bed and shoving it into his bag, along with a few shirts and pants that were already packed.

He finished with finding a few outfits to get himself by, and he moved to the bathroom, grabbing his needed toiletries. All the while, his mind kept wandering back to Eric. How desperate he had been to get him out and safe…how he'd kissed him…

"What is that kiss supposed to mean?!" he huffed for the tenth time since he had parted from his partner. "…And why do I want him to do it again…" he muttered as an after thought, leaning against the wall.

He needed to pull himself together. He, apparently, needed to get out to someplace safe. He hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a small bottle of pills off the counter and dropped them into his bag. Important medication for his condition should he have a larger attack and couldn't get to the hospital right away. The pills were no cure, but they helped, and he was grateful he'd just gotten the refill as he was down to only one or two in the bottle he kept in his pocket.

Certain he'd grabbed everything he needed, he left, locking his door behind him and walking down to his car. He tossed his bag into the passenger's seat and took off, driving as he normally would and heading out of Reaper London.

As he put more distance between himself and his city home, he finally started to break down. He didn't know what was happening, he didn't understand why it was happening, and he was all alone. Taking a shaky breath, he slowed and pulled over to the side of the country road, putting his car in park as tears rolled down his cheeks and he smacked his steering wheel, the horn going off when he did so, which hid the rare curse that flew from his lips.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, sitting in his car with classical music playing low from his CD player. After nearly twenty minuets passed, he finally had calmed enough to continue running away from everything he ever knew.

When he came to a small town he'd never been to before, he stopped and did as Eric had asked. He bought a new phone with a simple plan and he took a moment to save his contacts to the new phone, before reluctantly holding his older phone over the trash bin out on the street. But he couldn't toss it out. It was a work-issued phone, after all, and had a lot of important information on it. So, he turned it off and popped out the battery before hiding it under the seats in his car, grabbing something to eat, and continuing to drive to someplace that felt 'safe'.

Alan arrived at a small motel well after dark, he got his room and stepped into the cold, uninviting room. The carpet was ripped and warn, the ugly yellow wall paper was faded and peeling off the walls, the bed was hard and lumpy, and it made him want to start crying again. He set his bag onto the bed and sat down, taking out his new, simple mobile phone. Eric's number displayed on the screen. It was late, but Eric did ask him to call…and maybe he could get him to finally talk.

Gripping the phone tighter, Alan pressed the call button and held it to his ear, counting the number of rings he heard as he waited for Eric to answer. His heart beating nervously with each second that passed without answer.

What if Eric was in trouble, too? Why didn't Eric just run away with him? What if that kiss had been their last goodbye?

"Eric…please…pick up…"

* * *

Eric finished zipping up his pants and he flushed the urinal. He went to the bathroom sink to wash his hands, and it was then that he felt the buzzing of his phone in his pocket.

"Ah, shite," he exclaimed, hastily wiping his hands on the dangling towel before digging the phone out. He didn't recognize the number and his heart pounded as he quickly pressed the "answer" button.

"Slingby."

"Eric!" Alan's sweet, soft voice breathed in relief over the speaker of the phone, "Oh thank Rhea. I was worried you wouldn't pick up!"

Eric leaned against the tiled wall and looked at the ceiling, mouthing silent thanks to Lugh. "I was in th' lavvy. Jus' a minute, I'm headin' tae mah car now."

He moved as quickly as he could without appearing in too much of a rush, nodding at people as he sauntered through the lobby with feigned casualty. He made it into the garage and he spoke softly into the phone. "Still there?"

"Of course I am. You have explaining to do." Alan responded, standing up and pacing the small motel room, "Why aren't I at home where it's comfortable? Why didn't you come with me? What was that kiss about, Slingby!"

"I'm getting righ' on tha'," Eric said evasively, hoping Alan would get the clue that he wasn't yet in a place where he could speak freely. "Aye. Yeah, I know. Shoulda seen his face. Tha' was priceless."

He began to perspire as he pushed through the glass door to the parking lot, and every step to his car felt like an eternity.

_~Dun' hang up, Alan…stay wi' me.~_

"Eric, I'm worried for you. Please talk to me…what did I do? How long do I have to be out here? When can I come back home?" Alan gripped the phone and switched ears, "…Are you in danger?"

"Jus' a minute," begged Eric, yanking his car keys out to unlock the door. He got into the vehicle, jammed the key in the ignition and held the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he buckled his seatbelt. "A'right, now I can talk. I'm so sorry, Al. I couldnae talk abou' it where I was at."

He checked for traffic and put the car in reverse, before backing out of his spot. "I'm goin' tae yer place now. Please tell me yer no' there anymore."

He clicked his headlights on and started driving at moderate speed through the garage, keeping a sharp eye out for any signs of being followed as he made his way to the exit.

"Then talk to me, Eric. I have a right to know why I'm running. And don't tell me you'll explain later! Explain now." Alan bit his lip, frowning, "And why are you going to my apartment? Of course I'm not there; you told me to leave. I drove all day."

"Good," sighed Eric. He took a left as he pulled out of the garage and he began to drive to Alan's apartment. "I've go' tae at least give th' appearance tha' I'm checkin' in on ya. When I don' find ya there I'll report ya missing. I wish I could explain everythin' righ' now, but I can't. Ye'll jus' have tae trust me. I can tell ya more when we meet up later. I can grab anythin' extra ye might need from yer place while I'm there, if ya want, an' then I'll make ma report an' stop somewhere tae get ano'er phone tae keep in touch wi' ye. They're monitoring all incoming an' outgoin' numbers on our phones, so I cannae call ya back on this one, understand? Don't call _anyone _else."

"Eric, that doesn't help me at all! You said you'd tell me what's going on. Who's monitoring your phone? _Why_ are they? I thought I was in danger, but…are _you_? Why can't I call anyone? Ronald? Grell? William? I trust them just as I trust you. Are they alright? When can you meet with me? I have so many questions and you aren't answering any of them."

"I'm sorry, Alan." Eric sped up, still keeping a wary eye out. "I promise I'll tell ya more later. Fer now, jus' tell me where yer at an' what room yer in. I'll try tae get there as soon as I can, an' I'll give ye a more secure number. Jus' stay ou' of sight and don' come back downtown. Now where are ya?"

"I don't know…" Alan shook his head, "I didn't pay attention, I was just driving. I'm at some crappy little motel in the middle of literally nowhere. It's like strait out of one of those horror films you sometimes drag me to. Room six."

Eric sighed. "So I'm lookin fer a random place from a horror film. Al, I cannae jus' go checkin' every sixth room in every run-down joint ou'side of town. Can ye at least recall wha' highway ye were on when ya found it? Or at least wha' direction yeh were headin'?"

"I wasn't on a highway… The sign is faded. It said it's the…something-springs motel."

Eric quickly searched his navigation device for it. He found a couple of places with "Springs" in it, but only one within a hundred kilometers. Alan couldn't have driven further than that in the time since they'd last spoken, he reckoned. He chose that one and temporarily saved it for when he finished at his partner's apartment.

"A'right, I've go' a location," he said. "Jus' hang tight, okay? I'll bring ya somethin' tae eat, too. Anythin' else I can bring for ya?"

"…Depending on how long I wait for you, I may need a refill on my meds." Alan said, "I have a full bottle now, but we never know how often I need them. I'll let you know if you call me before driving out." Alan paused, looking out the window of his hotel room, "Eric…why did you kiss me?"

The Scotsman flushed at the memory, and he was glad that his partner wasn't there to witness the boyish reaction. It wasn't like him a bit to be shy when he wanted someone, but now he was getting flustered. "Er…tha kiss? Um. Wull…it…felt like tha righ' thing tae do at tha time? N-no, tha's no' it. I…Alan…"

He didn't know how to say it, and even if he could manage to spit it out, he didn't want to do it over the phone. If he was going to come clean with him, it was going to be to his face. "I've go' tae go. Need tae concentrate on ma drivin'. I'll call ye on tha new phone when I pick it up, so ye'll have tha number if ya need me. Dun' call me back at this number. If they see it more than once, they'll assume its no' a wrong number an' start askin' questions. Be there soon."

He hung up then, wincing. "Good one, Eric…ya foockin' eejit."

* * *

After stopping by Alan's apartment and grabbing a couple of things he thought he might want, Eric phoned in his report and left to pick up a secure phone. He called Alan from it to let him know he was on his way, and he didn't give him a chance to ask more questions. He was still kicking himself for that kiss and his un-cool attempt to explain it, and he didn't want to be grilled about it over the phone. He was good at charming people…good at flirting…but with Alan all he seemed capable of doing was just showing him with actions, rather than words. The little brunet had a way of making his mouth dry and his heart thump in a way nobody else could.

He stopped off at one of their favorite burger joints to pick up a meal, before following the directions on the navigation system and driving out of city limits. When he pulled up to the motel, he made a face immediately. "Must be th' place," he muttered. He shook his head and chuckled as he gathered the food bag and tote bag from the apartment into his arms. "Cripes, Al…ya couldn't have found a better spot tae bed down fer tha night?"

But it was really _his_ fault that his partner had just picked the first place he saw. Eric got out of the car and he approached the single level building, taking note of the flaking paint and splintering deck wrapping around it. He found door number six and he got the crazy feeling he should be looking over his shoulder for an axe. He juggled the goods in his arms and he knocked.

"Are ye in there, partner?"

The light was on, and the low mumble of voices from the TV could be heard, but Alan had fallen asleep an hour before after getting a shower. Luckily, the knock was loud enough to jolt him out of his slumber and he sat up, rubbing his eyes and fixing his glasses before getting up and padding over to the door, looking out the peephole before unlocking and opening the door.

"Eric." he said, cheeks flushing when he opened the door. He almost had the urge to greet him with a kiss—but he still didn't understand their first kiss, and he didn't want to risk making things more awkward. Instead, he stepped aside to let the man in.

"Hey," greeted Eric with a relieved smile. He walked in and he grimaced at the state of the place. "Good thing ye'll only be here fer one night, eh? I brought yer pillow an' that throw ya keep on th' end of yer bed too, but they're in tha car."

He walked over to the little round table by the air conditioning unit and he smirked when he saw how clean the surface was. He looked at Alan teasingly as he dropped the tote and put the food on the table. "I'm guessin' housekeeping dinnae get it so pristine. Oh, an' I picked up a refill on yer meds, too. Lucky ye've go' me listed tae do it for ya. It's in tha bag."

He was babbling, trying to delay the inevitable questions and explaining as his partner shut the door and locked it.

"Thank you…" Alan said before turning and, unable to stop himself, he ran over to Eric and hugged him, "I was so worried about you, you idiot!" he said, his hand slipping into Eric's blazer pocket and nabbing his keys, "And you aren't leaving me again until you tell me everything!" he said, backing up, holding up the keys before slipping them into his own pocket with his own keys.

Taken by surprise over the unexpected hug and the subsequent key theft, Eric sputtered. "A-Alan…give those back!"

He started to advance on the brunet, and then he realized he'd have to shove his hand into his pocket and probably wrestle with him a bit to get his keys back. Given the way he was feeling right now, he was afraid he'd just end up shoving him against the wall and making out with him. He ran his fingers through the loose part of his hair and he sighed. He couldn't look him in the eye. "A'right, Al. I can only tell ya so much, though. Th' truth is, Dispatch has been compromised. Taken o'er by usurpers. A lo' of agents have sided wi' them, 'cause they outnumber us. I…I'm one of 'em."

Alan stared at the Scotsman. His partner, and the person he trusted the most. Had he heard him right? Surely he hadn't! There was no way Eric would betray Dispatch. He smiled nervously, "I'm sorry…you mean…you are working on trying to stop it, right? Not that you joined them?"

Eric glanced at him, his heart aching with shame. There were many things he could endure in life, but Alan's disappointment wasn't one of them. "I'm so sorry, Alan. They made me an offer I couldnae refuse." He huffed a humorless laugh and turned away from him. "Actually, they give everyone an offer they cannae refuse. Join or be killed fer 'treason'. It's a massive takeo'er, an' they've been doin' it fer years…covertly. Tha hammer's comin' down soon, so I had tae get ya safely away from there, before they pulled ya in, too."

He turned to look at him, and he swallowed. Just looking into those trusting, expressive eyes and seeing the disbelief, then betrayal in them made him want to reap himself. "Ya haven't seen tha things I have, Al! Ye've no idea wha' they're capable of!"

Alan choked up, feeling a lump form in his throat, "…Then come with me—don't go back. They can't kill you if they can't find you. That's why you sent me away, right?" Alan walked over to Eric and reached up to cup his cheek, his thumb rubbing over the stubble that had started to grow on his chin since that morning. "Come with me." he repeated in a whisper.

Eric placed his hand over the smaller one on his cheek, watching him with aching eyes. "I can't. I wish I could, but I'm in too deep. Why do ya think I dinnae want 'em gettin' hold of yeh, too?"

He couldn't tell him the real reason. He stood to loose too much if he backed out. He'd lose Alan for sure, without the cure to his condition. "Tha best I can do righ' now is get ya out of their grasp an' try tae learn more about tha power base behind all this. It's happenin' everywhere—no' jus' London Dispatch. They took o'er tha branches wi' the largest concentration of agents first, then spread out tae th' rest of us. We din't even see 'em comin', they were so stealthy. They got me six months ago."

He took Alan's hand and he held it. "Ye can trust Spears an' Knox, if ya happen tae find 'em. No-one else. Understand, sweetheart?"

"Come with me—please!" Alan panicked, feeling his heart start to speed, "Please…we can get through this together… Eric…I…" he searched his partner's sad eyes a moment before he took a turn to press their lips together, having to pop up onto his toes in order to surprise him with the soft kiss. They could protect each other, if they stayed together.

And it was then when he realized just how deeply he felt for his partner. "Eric…I love you, I think."

It was like being punched in the solar plexus. Eric stared at him. "A-Alan…"

But that sweet, brief little kiss and those softly declared words broke him down. "Ye 'think'?" he said, his passion rising. "Let's find ou' fer sure if ya can love a traitor."

He put his arms around him and pulled him close, lowering his head to claim his lips. It wasn't a soft, tender kiss, either. It was raw…desperate. He pillaged Alan's mouth the way he'd been fantasizing to since before he got caught in the net of the usurpers. As soon as the brunet's lips parted, Eric laid further claim with his tongue.

"Mmm," he purred, lifting the slighter frame of his partner. He felt like he was on fire.

Alan responded, wrapping his arms around Eric's shoulders, and his legs around his waist, moaning a soft gasp into the kiss.

No, he didn't 'think' he loved Eric. He _knew_ he loved him. And perhaps…if Eric knew just how much, he'd stay…he'd run away with him…they'd be selfish and create a new life for the two of them someplace safe.

He deepened the kiss, hoping to express his thoughts through their locked lips. Begging him to stay.

"Alan," gasped the Scotsman, turning to set him on the table behind him. He knocked the bags of food off the surface carelessly, his tongue stroking deeply as he cupped his hips. There wasn't enough air…but he shouldn't need to breathe. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his own ears, and his blood was roaring in his veins like an untamed river in the wilds.

He rubbed against his partner, needing the contact for the sake of feeling it, as much as for lust. He felt Alan's answering hardness against his own and he groaned.

"Hhah!" Alan gasped for breath as he found himself pinned down to the table, his partner atop him, ravishing him. His body flushed hotter and he nipped playfully at Eric's lower lip before their lips became locked once more. His hands running across the Scotsman's shoulders and back, gripping the fabric of his blazer in a fit of lustful frustration. He'd never felt anything like it before, not even in his wildest dreams.

And yes, he had dreamed of being bedded by his partner, but he had always denied that it meant anything. This was real, though. This time, it was all too real. It only would have tricked him into thinking he was dreaming if they were in a more romantic setting. Under the stars, in a garden…a suite… Never would he dream of loosing his virginity to his partner in an old, run-down motel strait out of a horror film.

Yet, here they were, kissing so deeply that his head was spinning from lack of air, pawing at each other's clothes…his pajama top loosening and falling off his shoulder. When had it become unbuttoned? It didn't matter. What mattered was that it was Eric.

"Al," panted Eric, "Alan…"

What remained of rational thought warned him that he shouldn't be doing this…not now…not here. Their first time together shouldn't be in a flea-bitten motel. But this could also be their only chance to be together…their _final_ chance. He was a resourceful man. He carried something for this on him at all times, even though he hadn't made use of it since he started having feelings for Alan.

Eric pulled the brunet's pajama top off, rocking against him insinuatingly. His palm chafed his nipples as he stroked his lean, bared chest and he thrust his tongue hungrily into his mouth again. He was aching…swelling 'till he thought he might burst. He'd known there was chemistry, but it felt like they'd ignited an inferno. He had to have him.

Alan hummed, moving his hands around to Eric's chest to tug his already loose tie off him and pinch open the buttons of his shirt to reveal the larger male's strong chest—lightly dusted with golden hair to match the lion's mane on his head. He was grateful that he was in his pajamas—or half of them at this point. His normal slacks would be way too tight with his straining erection, which pitched a tent in his loose-fitting pajama pants. It saved him the discomfort that Eric probably was experiencing.

As the thought crossed his fogged mind, Alan let one hand wander down to the promising bulge in his partner's pants. His cheeks flushed darker when he felt how it filled his hand.

The bold touch made Eric growl, and he slid his hand around to Alan's back to support him as he cupped his bottom and picked him up again. The least he could do was bring him to the bed. Lip-locked with his partner, he staggered over to the bed with him and he laid him down on it. The mattress was old and the springs creaked under their weight, but it would do. He released Alan's lips, his damp mouth worshiping his throat as he rubbed against the hand still fondling him. He was out of breath like he'd run a marathon, but he was charged…energized. He ran one hand over the brunet's ribcage and down to his hip, and he lifted up a little to untie the drawstrings of his pajama pants.

Hooking his fingers into the waistline of the garment, he yanked them down. He backed off so that he could strip them from him, and he took a moment to feast his eyes on Alan's fair, slim body before covering it again with his own. The Scotsman growled again as he struggled to get his blazer off.

"Want ye," he moaned, "Ah, mah sweet Alan…I've got tae have ya. 'M sorry it's no' in a better setting than this."

"Next time…we can have each other…under the stars…or…some other romantic setting," Alan panted, shivering as the air-conditioned chill touched his heated skin. "Here, let me help…" he pushed himself up and helped Eric out of his blazer and shirt, then helped with his belt, eager to see all of the man. He always thought he'd be embarrassed being so exposed before Eric's gaze, but it hardly registered to him that he was sitting naked on the bed as he helped even the odds by taking the Scotsman's belt.

Eric pushed his boots off, and he nearly forgot to get what he needed out of his blazer, and he hastily knelt down and dug through it for the gel packs he kept in an inner pocket. He was a little embarrassed to have such convenient items on him, suddenly realizing what it must look like.

"I swear I wasn't plannin' this," he said as he dropped the gels onto the bed and kissed his partner again. "Part o' me clung tae th' fantasy tha' maybe someday…but I dinnae come here fer…I mean…tha's no' why I came, sweetheart."

Breathing heavily, he stood between Alan's parted thighs in only his pants. He wanted to finish what they started more than anything, but needing him to understand he didn't meet him out here with the intention of shagging him.

Alan eyed the packets. He had to admit when he first saw what Eric was retrieving from his pockets, he wondered just how often the man used such things if he carried them with him.

"You…don't have any other lovers I don't know about…do you?" he asked carefully. He reached up to trace the tattoo of the Celtic cross on the blond's right shoulder, before moving on to do the same to the knotwork encircling his left bicep. He wasn't usually a fan of ink, but he had to make an exception for this golden-haired death god. Eric's tattoos were quite alluring and they suited him perfectly.

"No," answered the Scotsman immediately. "I havnae been on a date since…well, since ya passed yer entry exam an' became mah partner."

He shrugged, again faintly embarrassed. "Think ya ruined me fer others, even though we ne'er so much as kissed before today."

He looked him in the eyes and he took a steadying breath. "I'm pretty awful at talking abou' my feelings. Tha's why I kissed ya in th' car. It was tha only way I could…express it. If ye were jus' a conquest, I'd have no trouble chattin' ya up. Ya could ask anyone tha' used tae party wi' me, back in the day before ye showed up."

"Oh, I know all about your reputation…that's why I had to ask…I don't want to share you—to be the 'other guy'." Alan said, looking back up at Eric. "I don't care if you have had others in your bed before—just if you do now."

Eric rubbed the brunet's naked shoulders slowly, and he bent over to kiss him softly on the lips. "There's been no-one else, since I started tae realize I was falling for ya. I wouldnae have ano'er…'specially now."

His lips brushed against Alan's as he said it, and even that simple contact started to heat him up again. His package started to strain against its confined space and he grunted uncomfortably. "See wha' ya do tae me, wi'out even trying?"

He took Alan's hand and guided it back to the offending area, smirking at him. With his free hand, he reached between the brunet's thighs and he gripped his naked, swollen shaft to gently stroke it.

"You'll—ah!" Alan let out an excited gasp of pleasure, which interrupted his comment. His head fell back and his hips rolled forward into the sensual touch. "Y-You'll be my first," he admitted once he found his voice once more, "As a student, I had been too busy to think about relationships…then I tried lying to myself about wanting one—wanting you."

He snapped open the buttons on Eric's slacks and opened the zipper, slowly.

Eric's breathing rhythm picked up again, as did his pulse. He sighed with relief as the zipper came down and the trousers slowly parted, easing the pressure on his stiffened groin. He smiled at Alan and he let go of his wrist to trace his high, fine cheekbones with calloused fingertips. "I prolly shouldn't be so happy tae hear I'll be yer first. Guess tha' makes me a hypocrite, aye?"

Alan shook his head, "They aren't here with you, I am." he pushed his bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at Eric, "I'm your special someone right now—and hopefully for a long time, if not until the end. This is my first time…but this is also _our_ first time. That's what matters to me." Before Eric could respond, he pressed their lips back together to resume their kissing.

A rumbling purr rose in the Scotsman's throat as their tongues again met and caressed. He kept stroking the brunet's flushed arousal as he combed his fingers through his soft, fine hair and he started pushing down on his trousers, eager to be out of them and the underwear restricting his package.

"Feels like I'm gonna burst," he said breathlessly, breaking the kiss for a moment to speak. He took his hand out of Alan's hair and he started to shove his trousers down, making sure he didn't cease or slow his practiced fondling of his partner's cock.

"I…I feel….fuzzy…" Alan moaned against his lips, "My head is pleasantly dizzy…I want you, Eric."

Wanting to please Eric in return, he reached down, copying how Eric's hand stroked his member, gripping the thick, long shaft firmly as his hand discovered just how well-endowed the Scotsman was.

"…Will it fit?" he gasped without thinking, his bright eyes wide.

Eric huffed a breathless laugh, even more in love with this sweet young reaper than before over those innocent comments. "Aye, it'll fit, sweetheart," he promised. He sobered at the pleasure of Alan's touch, and he kicked his pants off and cupped the brunet's bottom with his now free hand, scooting him back on the mattress so that he could ease him onto his back.

"I've jus' got tae take is slow wi' ya. I'll be gentle."

He climbed carefully onto the creaky, lumpy bed with him, straddling one of Alan's legs with his knees and bracing himself with his free arm as he hovered over him. He kissed his neck again, licking and sucking the tender skin, speaking softly to him in Gaelic without thought of it.

_"Tha mi sa' ghaol leat,"_ he murmured, _"Bidh gaol agam ort fad mo bheatha, thusa 's gun duine eile, _Alan."

"I still don't understand you…" Alan hummed, having had some difficulty learning the tongue. a few languages had been easy for him to learn, Gaelic…not so much. "But I hope it's as romantic as it sounds."

Eric chuckled, his lips moving along Alan's throat, and down his chest. "Sorry…lost mah senses an dinnae even realize I wasnae speakin' English."

He kissed his way back up, traced Alan's lips with his tongue and offered a translation. "I said I'm in love wi' ya. I'll love ye mah whole life; an' no other."

Alan felt his cheeks heat as they turned red. He reached up, running his fingers over Eric's lips and chin. "I want you to be my partner, Eric—not just my work partner…"

Eric felt a swift stab of emotion so strong it was almost pain. "Fuck, Alan…I'm yers; even if I don't deserve ya."

He kissed him hard, and he gently pumped into his stroking hand as he returned the favor. He fondled the tip of Alan's cock, rubbing in gentle circles to make it buck and twitch in his hand.

Alan smiled gently up at the older reaper, small gasps being drawn from him. "We don't have to worry about that right now…tonight…tonight we can be selfish…" he leaned up and kissed his jaw and ear before whispering, "Teach me how to please you, tonight."

"How 'bout if I show ya, instead?" suggested Eric with a rogue-ish grin, his body trembling helplessly in reaction to Alan's loving, eager words. He stopped fondling him and he pushed his knees between Alan's thighs, spreading them and stretching out on top of him. He chuckled at the startled look on Alan's face.

"Relax, sweetheart. I'm jus' goin' tae show ya wha' I like. Then yeh can show me th' same, aye?"

Alan nodded and bit his lip, "I don't know what I like yet—other than you so…we'll take this slow at first." he let his eyes wander down along Eric's built form, "Rhea, You're gorgeous." he ran his fingers over Eric's abs.

Eric's muscles instinctively tightened at the touch, his breath catching. "I dinnae think ye need many lessons," he gasped. Alan seemed to just…synch with him. He'd already managed to discover two of his weaknesses. Earlobes, abs…and…

Eric smiled mischievously, dipping his head to kiss the brunet's chest. This was the best part…the one that would allow him to pleasure Alan in a way he suspected he'd never been pleasured before. He slowly circled one nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, all the while running one hand over Alan's ribcage. He braced his weight on the other arm to balance himself as he gave the other nipple the same treatment, until they were both wet and pebbled. Alan's torso was smooth and hairless, lithe and irresistible to him.

"Love yer body, Alan," breathed Eric as he began scooting down further, until he was bent over the bedside and kissing his ribs.

Eyes closed, Alan breathed in with a moan, shifting against the lumpy mattress under him before propping himself up and looking down at Eric. Watching Eric press his lips to his pale skin, Evidence of his Thorns just below the surface with vine-like lines discoloring his flesh. Eric's tan skin looked good pressed to his, and he wanted to feel it more.

Alan reached out, running his fingers through Eric's blond locks and down his neck to his shoulders.

"Mm, feels nice," purred the Scotsman as his smaller companion's fingertips skimmed over his back.

He traced Alan's navel with his tongue, cupping his hip. He saw the evidence of his curse; subtle little veins beneath the surface of the soft, fragile skin…but they reminded him more of roots; or the branches of a tree. It was terrible yet beautiful, and he ached inside again at the thought of losing this dear, sweet reaper to such an unfair fate. He kissed the marks of the thorns as if to sooth a hurt, pushing Alan's thighs apart and rubbing his chin against the springy thatch of hair framing his groin. He closed his eyes and brushed his lips against the root of his arousal, running his hands over his hips and up his thighs.

"Sae sweet," he murmured as he cupped the back of Alan's knees in his hands, gently urging him to spread his thighs further and bend his legs back. He kissed the inside of the brunet's left thigh, and then he licked with steady swipes of his tongue. Steadily making his way towards the source of Alan's arousal, he glanced up from between his spread thighs to watch his expressions.

"Yer beautiful."

"Well, you are driving this 'beauty' crazy doing that down there!" Alan gasped, shivering in pleasure, "I want to, too…" he whispered, tempting Eric back up to a kiss, then pressing soft kisses down his neck and shoulders, his hands rubbing up and down along Eric's arms.

"Want tae what, eh?" Eric teased, reveling in every touch and kiss as if it would be his last. He allowed the curious brunet to explore his body as he returned his kisses, and he reached out for one of the lubricant packs. He sucked on Alan's earlobe and he bumped his erection against his, almost playfully.

Alan climbed into Eric's lap, sucking lightly on his shoulder, hardly aware of Eric's fiddling with the packets. "I want to touch you, too…" he explained breathlessly, "I want to feel you… And I probably sound so corny right now…" he flushed.

"No," gasped the larger reaper, "No' at all. Yer passionate. I love it."

Eric's hands clamped onto Alan's bare ass with a slight smacking sound, and he rocked back on his heels, positioning his partner in his arms. He ravished his mouth, hungry for something he'd never before put a name to. He'd had his dates, his dalliances…but this was a different thing entirely from what he was used to. He let go of Alan's bottom and he broke open one of the gel packs. All he could think of was how much he wanted to be joined with this reaper. He couldn't think of the horror of what had happened to their organization, or what he'd done for the sake of keeping Alan alive. No, he didn't care about any of that right now. All that mattered to him was the sweetly loving, gasping young reaper in his arms.

"Alan," he murmured, rocking forward again to lay his companion onto his back. "Do ye trust me?"

"More than anyone…" Alan moaned with a nod. his eyes hooded and fogged with passion. No one else had saved him nearly as many times, fretted over each attack he'd suffered. no one else had held him though the night after he'd found out about his illness. Eric had been there for him from the beginning. Eric was special…he didn't know or care when he'd begun to have feelings for the Scotsman, but he had, and he couldn't imagine a life without him.

Eric broke open the gel pack in his hand, and he murmured a swift apology for the chill as he squirted it over Alan's exposed entrance. He tossed it up and he rubbed over the area with two fingers, kissing the smaller reaper desperately as he smoothed the lubricant over the flesh surrounding his goal. He coated his fingers with it liberally before pressing in lightly with the tip of his first finger.

"Yer my conscience, Alan," he breathed as he eased it in, watching his face. "All I live fer. My heart."

"It's cold!" Alan gasped when the lube touched his tight entrance, his legs twitching. But then Eric's fingers pressed in and he completely forgot about the temperature. His head dropped back and body stiffened, "Oh—Styx!" he gasped, feeling a hint of pain.

"Easy," soothed Eric.

It was so hard to keep his lust in check, but this was the one being alive he would never, ever hurt. He hovered over him as he carefully pushed in further, kissing Alan's flushed face and nuzzling the soft brown hair away from his right ear. "Relax fer me, sweetheart. It'll get better. I promise."

"A finger barely fits…You're huge…won't fit…" Alan gasped, gripping Eric's shoulders.

"I'm no' tha' big," protested Eric with a pained chuckle. "Relax fer me…ah, wait."

He knew just what to do. He grinned, and he started to inch down the smaller reaper's body. "I'll make it good fer ya, Alan," he promised huskily. He just needed to get him loosened up.

"It's a'right, love," he whispered, kissing his way down Alan's squirming body again. "I want this tae be as won'erful fer ya as I know it's going tae be fer me."

He reached Alan's erection—softening slightly from the discomfort of the breach—and he ran his tongue over the underside, curling the edges of it around the shape of his staff. He licked from root to tip, then back down. He pushed his finger deeper when he felt his partner relax more around it, and he nuzzled the sack beneath the shaft, nosing it gently before stroking his tongue over it.

"Let go, sweetheart," he purred between licks.

Alan closed his eyes, relaxing more as he took a few deep breaths. "Mmmh…Eric…That feels…better…" he breathed, member twitching against Eric's tongue as it started to return to hardness. "Should…I do anything?" he asked, peeking down at his partner—no, not partner. Eric was his lover now, wasn't he? The thought made his stomach feel fluttery.

"Jus' let me love ya," answered the older reaper softly.

He licked his way back up Alan's shaft, sucking the tip before closing his lips over it. He withdrew his finger at the same time, and he stroked his balls with the pad of his thumb as he pushed in again. He took Alan deeper into his mouth as he began to pump his finger, all the while stroking around his sack and the entrance with his thumb.

This was his Alan. He would never let his urges get the better of him. He'd never hurt him, and he would never allow anyone else to hurt him, either. Eric licked the salty dew from the tip of the swollen head of Alan's arousal, flicking his tongue against the little slit with a purr.

Alan took another deep breath, relaxing and letting Eric do as he wished, earning little moans from his soft lips. "Eric…." The brunet parted his legs more, the passionate buzz taking over his mind once again as the world fell away, leaving just the two of them. He hardly even noticed the lumpiness of the old mattress anymore.

Eric bobbed his head over the length of Alan's sex, curling his tongue against the underside as he sucked on it. He fondled his tight balls as he carefully eased a second finger into his resisting passage. Soon…soon he'd be ready for him, but he had to take his time. He had to make it a good experience for him. He bobbed his head faster, sucking a little harder on the stiff length of his partner's arousal. As his fist two fingers thrust inside of Alan's tight heat, his thumb massaged his sack in gentle circles and his bottom two fingers stroked around the impaled entrance.

Again, Alan stiffened as a first reaction, but slowly relaxed, Eric's tongue and lips doing well to distract him from the uncomfortable, and slightly painful stretch until he was worked loose enough not to be bothered by it.

"Eric—Eric Ahh!" Alan began to squirm, finding it difficult to keep still as such talented fingers and lips pleasured him.

Eric's heart pounded fast and fierce as the smaller reaper's cries reached his ears. He kept going, sucking and licking as he worked to relax him. Not yet…not yet. He carefully slipped a third finger in, and he rubbed Alan's tensing hip with tender care as he gripped the base of his shaft. The brunet began to squirm uncontrollably beneath him and Eric growled softly, the vibrations of his throat massaging him further.

He finally released Alan's shaft with a wet pop, and he licked his lips as he bowed over him. "I think yer ready, sweetheart."

He broke open another packet and he grabbed Alan's left hand to squirt the gel into it.

"Rub it on me, Alan. I'm more than ready fer ya."

Alan shivered, He had gotten so close…He had been about to warn Eric when he pulled back, and his member twitched in sexual frustration. He wouldn't last long once Eric took him all the way…he knew that much. After all, he was a man and he did touch himself at times. He knew his limits.

Alan pushed the thoughts aside and had Eric lay back against the headboard before he crouched between his legs, bending over to kiss the tip on the man's straining sex before taking it in his slick hand, rubbing the lube over his flesh.

"Oh…lover…feels so good," gasped Eric. He swallowed, reining in his instincts. No, he wouldn't blow his load in Alan's hand. Lugh, it felt heavenly, though…to be handled this way, to see the love shining in Alan's eyes as his gaze switched between Eric's cock and his face.

_~He looks at me th' way I look at him. Like a sunrise.~_

"Alan…stop," He finally groaned, his erection twitching eagerly. He closed the distance between their mouths and he kissed Alan's soft, eager lips. "Ye'll make me cum a'fore we can join, sweetheart."

"Well you nearly did that to me!" Alan pointed out, poking his bare chest before he found himself on his back and under the blond—again. "You had me so-so close…" he hummed, sucking on his lips.

"Close now," soothed Eric, entering him again for the final stretch, his fingers thrusting a little harder…a little deeper. He rubbed his aching shaft against Alan's leg. "In fact, I'd better watch tha'. I could spoil meself on ye if I'm no' careful."

"E-Eric…I—" Without warning, the flushed young reaper reached forward, hooking his hands behind Eric's neck and pulled him down against his lips, his legs wrapping around his waist almost desperately. "Mmmmh~"

The desperate quality in Alan's voice made Eric want to just drop on top of him and pound into him. He somehow managed to control his libido, but just barely.

"Want me inside of ya, sweetheart?" He rubbed against Alan, the thick length of his arousal sliding against the younger man's.

"D-don't say it like that! Sounds dirty…" Alan gasped, unable to flush any redder, "…but yes…I want to feel you…there."

Eric tried hard not to laugh. "Then I s'pose 'Dirty Eric's' abou' tae clam tha fertile soils of Alan-land."

Alan twisted and hid his face in Eric's shoulder, "Eriiiic!"

The Scotsman's composure broke, and he couldn't help the quake of laughter. He nudged Alan's face off his shoulder and he balanced on one arm so that he could up his chin. Still smiling, he looked him in the eye.

"Nothin' 'dirty' abou' anythin' were' goin' tae do together, sweetheart…but if ya want tae stop, I will."

"No, don't stop," Alan murmured, "we don't need comparisons like that before we do this, though…It's not romantic."

Eric didn't try to crack further jokes or talk anymore. He was aching for him…yearning. Alan's eyes were closed, his body tense as if expecting pain. It calmed Eric's lust, and he kissed his lips softly. "N' more 'dirty talk', sweetheart. Jus' feelings."

He reached down to position himself, and he butted gently against the slick entrance. "Need ya t' relax fer me, Alan. Look at me. I love ya."

Alan opened his eyes and bit his lip. glancing down at how Eric was positioned, ready to enter him. "Go slowly." he requested, looking back up at Eric, "At least at first."

Eric's expression softened. Alan truly was virginal. "I won' hurt ye, if I can help it. Jus' look at me. Look into my eyes, Alan."

He carefully pressed against Alan's tight entrance. "I'm yers, Al. S'okay."

The brunet felt his heart speed up with excitement and he gave a small nod, taking Eric's hand in his before meeting his green-gold gaze, "I'm ready…I'm ready to go all the way with you, Eric."

"Ah, Lugh help me," moaned Eric, and he nudged in. There was resistance, of course, so he only went in as far as the tip. He kissed Alan as the brunet's eyes went wide with a blend of pain and wonderment, and he held himself within him. He felt so good…so tight. Eric nuzzled his cheek, murmuring absent-minded endearments in his ear as he waited for the resistance to ease up.

Alan gasped, clinging to Eric and fighting the sudden urge to swear. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he took a deep breath as he waited to adjust. Slowly, he began to relax, and he opened his eyes to look at the Scotsman. "Eric…"

"Better now?" guessed the blond. He eased in a bit deeper, watching his partner's expressions carefully. Gods, he was so snug. He didn't think he'd ever been with someone this tight before, and he had to take a deep breath himself as his shaft throbbed in reaction to it. He placed soft, gentle kisses on the brunet's face, stopping his advance again.

"W-was." He gasped, hugging Eric tighter again, "Sweet Rhea, Eric!" Alan grit his teeth and his hands pawed at his lover's back.

Eric looked down at him tenderly, on the verge of backing off. He'd always been proud of his endowments before, but now he wished he were a bit smaller. Causing pain to the one he loved made him feel terrible, even as his body sang with delight over the union.

"I…I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm tryin' tae be as gentle as I can wi' ya, lover. If ye cannae bear it, I can pull back out."

"I—I know…" He met Eric's gaze, "I'm okay…just…getting used to you… It's…it's nice once I get used to it."

Eric relaxed, and he smiled at him. "I'm glad it's easin' up fer ya. This is no fun fer me if ya cannae enjoy it too." He kissed him slowly and sensually, slipping his tongue past his lips to caress his. He drove his length deeper, until it was a little over halfway inside of Alan. His breath caught at the clenching around him and he went still again, waiting for it to ease up again. Once it did, he kept going, filling his companion with excruciating slowness and letting him feel every hard inch of him.

Eric broke the kiss and he rested his forehead on Alan's shoulder, panting softly. It was amazing…heavenly, even. "Ah, sweetheart…ya fit me like ye were made fer me…"

As Alan's face softened from a pained look to one of discomfort, he finally responded. "I'm wondering what the first two men to try this were thinking….and why they lasted long enough to know it feels good and was a good idea…" he gave Eric a small smile.

Eric kissed his nose and smiled back. "Jus' wait 'till we _really_ get started, Al. So much pleasure tae be had, once ya finish adjusting."

He braced himself on one arm so that he wouldn't put his full weight on him, and he ran his other hand over Alan's chest, stomach and ribs. He kissed him again, swirling his tongue in his mouth as he fondled a nipple. He slid his hand down and he lifted up a little so that he could stroke Alan's cock, once again trying to distract him from the discomfort with pleasure.

"But still…can you imagine the first guy to look at his boyfriend and say 'maybe I can stick it in you down there'?" He laughed, "I would have never thought of such a thing…"

Eric laughed too, amazed that his partner could come up with such a thing. "I ne'er really thought of it like tha' before. Maybe they saw some animals doin' it an' figured they were on tae somethin', I dunno. Yer such a silly little thing, love. At least I know ye mus' be feelin' better, if ye can crack jokes."

Alan chuckled and cupped Eric's cheek, "Thank you for giving me time to adjust to you." he whispered before covering his lips with his own.

Eric traced the brunet's lips with his tongue, relieved that he was no longer in pain. He withdrew slowly and gave a gentle, experimental push, sliding in shallowly before pulling out again, only to drive his cock back in to the hilt. "Unh…oh, tha's wonderful," he groaned, in love with the feel of it.

"_Ahhn_!" Alan couldn't help but cry out in surprised pleasure, "Oh sweet Heaven!" Heart thumping against his ribs, Alan looked up at Eric, his eyes pleading with him to do it again. The slow pain had been worth it, he could already tell.

Eric obliged him, guessing that this time, his cry had been one of pleasure instead of discomfort. His breath shivered on his lips as he pumped again, and again after that. Gently. That was the key to making it good for his inexperienced lover. He knew how easily he could hurt Alan by accident if he allowed himself to get rough with him. He'd done it before in the past to others, when he was still too green to know how to gauge his partner's reactions.

"Blessed saints, ya feel sae good," he moaned, his brows furrowing over intense, lusty eyes. He left off touching Alan to yank his glasses off before they could fall off his face and land on Alan's. He put them aside on the nightstand, and then he eased his companion's off as well and set them beside them. He kissed him deeply and he began a slow, careful rhythm. In to the hilt, out to the tip, a couple of shallow thrusts, then deep again. He knew how to vary his thrusts and keep his partner off-guard.

More little sounds of pleasure and surprise left the brunet's lips, his body pressing itself into Eric's movements. "Eric! Oh—Eric!" he gasped into a broad shoulder, his body working up a sweat. His fingers moved over his partner's back, pressing in where the tattoos of the two Celtic dragons facing one another decorated the strong muscles on either side of his spine.

The sweet sound of his love calling his name like that thrilled him, and Eric growled softly and picked up the pace a bit. "Aye…yer mine, Alan…an' I'm yers. Ahh…ohh!"

He closed his eyes, perspiration now beading on his face as the heat of passion made his body sing. He'd been with experienced lovers, fierce ones, timid ones…he'd had all types in his life as a reaper, but never had any of them made him feel like this. He cupped Alan's pale hip and he urged him to try moving a little himself; not only to give him confidence but also to encourage him to find the angle that felt best for him.

Alan responded by tilting his hips up, his mouth dropping open as Eric rubbed up against and hit his inner walls at a new angle. He began to move, his wiggling becoming uncontrollable until he stiffened, crying out suddenly, his voice more like a scream as Eric found his sweet spot, sending, somehow, more intense waves of pleasure through his body.

Eric smiled in triumph at the unrestrained scream of pleasure. This was exactly what he'd been aiming for. Now that he knew where to aim his thrusts, he propped Alan's legs up on his shoulders and he sat up, folding his own parted legs beneath him. He cupped the brunet's hips to keep his pelvis at that precise angle and he began to pump rapidly, bumping unerringly against that magic spot each time.

"'S a'right, lover," he panted when Alan looked almost panicked at the intensity of the sensations. He was so beautiful to him, flushed and sweaty, his eyes wide and soft with surrender. He intended to make this last for as long as he could keep going. One climax wasn't good enough for this special, gentle reaper. He wanted to give him several, if he could.

Alan's toes curled as he was driven crazy by how Eric trust into his sensitive spot over and over again, each time driving screams of pleasure from his lips. He couldn't speak, even to warn Eric that he was about to—and then it happened. his pleasure bursting from him and coating, not only his, but Eric's abs in the process. His body curled up against Eric's and his cry was muffled into the man's shoulder.

Yet Eric didn't slow, keeping Alan excited with continued thrusts to make him cry out. It was music to Eric's ears, and he caressed his partner's sweating, writhing body lovingly. He felt himself getting dangerously close to coming, and he slowed his rhythm and eased Alan's legs off his shoulders. Stretching out on top of him, he kissed Alan languidly, grunting as he fought his impending climax back. His skin slid against the smaller reaper's, slick with Alan's release. He didn't care about the mess—in fact, he was more than pleased to have provoked so much of it.

"Sae much more tae come, Alan," he promised breathlessly, huskily. He changed to gentle, slow, deep thrusts, kissing the brunet's sweaty face and lips as he waited for his body to calm down a bit.

Eric kept at it for nearly an hour, bringing his lover to climax twice more before he finally couldn't hold back any longer. He bowed over Alan, his body tensing and his lips parting on a long, rough groan as he delved deep and bucked inside of him. It was such a relief…such a heavenly feeling. He thought he might never stop coming, and when he did, he was trembling like a newborn.

"A-Alan," he gasped, pressing his sweaty forehead against his lover's.

Alan was panting, trembling, even as he relaxed on the bed. He couldn't speak. his voice was lost to him, so instead, he weakly pulled the Scotsman down into a tired but loving kiss. He felt sticky, and knew he'd need another shower, but he didn't care at the moment, wanting to just curl up in his lover's arms until morning.

Eric kissed him back, waiting to catch his breath again before carefully easing his softening length out of his partner's body. He rolled off of him onto his side, and he pulled him into his embrace. Stroking Alan's back, he kissed his forehead and he waited for his heart to stop thundering in his chest. He could hardly believe it; he'd just made love to the reaper he'd betrayed his friends and organization to save. He never expected this to happen, and as they lay there enjoying the afterglow, the sad reality that he couldn't stay with him began to return to him.

But how could he leave him again, after that? How could he go back to the corrupted organization, knowing he'd left Alan out there to hide on his own? Maybe if he had some idea of where Spears and Knox might be, he could unite the three of them so that Al wouldn't have to be alone. He closed his eyes, his thoughts buzzing around in his head as he struggled between personal desire and what he knew had to be done.

"I love ya, Alan," he murmured, kissing the other reaper's soft brown hair and holding him closer. "No matter wha' happens, tha' much will ne'er change."

Alan hummed a noise that sounded like 'I love you, too', his voice tired from all the screams, cries, and moans. He curled up against Eric's sweaty body, resting his cheek on his shoulder, slowly starting to drift to sleep as the excitement of their lovemaking faded.

* * *

Eric slept until the sun had just begun to rise. He kept hearing a muffled buzzing sound, and being a light sleeper, it woke him up. Alan was still lying halfway on top of him and he carefully eased out from under him to get up. Realizing that the buzzing was coming from his discarded blazer, Eric padded over to it and picked it up to fish his work phone out of the pocket. He didn't answer it, but he saw the ID of which office it was coming from and he closed his eyes, whispering a curse beneath his breath.

They wanted to know if he'd located Alan yet. He couldn't stay here, no matter how much he wanted to. Doing so would only endanger his partner and he was still adamant that Alan get as far away from reaper London as possible. He looked over at his sleeping lover, his heart in his eyes as he gazed upon him. He put his phone back into his blazer and he walked softly over to the bed, looking down at Alan as the thin shafts of early morning sunlight peeked through the window curtains and fell on his slumbering form. Eric reached out to caress Alan's sleeping face with the back of his knuckles, and he bent over to plant one last, tender kiss on his cheek.

_~I have no choice, sweetheart. Please, take care o' yerself an' try tae forgive me.~_

With a heavy sigh, the Scotsman quietly cleaned himself up a bit in the bathroom, got dressed, and snuck out the door. He collected the pillow and blanket he'd brought from Alan's apartment out of his car and he brought them in and set them down by the door, before leaving a note behind for him.

_"Alan,_

_I had to go back to Dispatch. They'll start looking for me if I don't show up for work, and I can't risk leading them to you. I'll contact you when I can. You should get out of the Shinigami realm altogether for now…find a place in the mortal realm to lay low. I'll find a way to keep getting your meds to you. I hate to leave you alone and if there were any way I could be with you right now, I would. I don't want you to be alone, my heart. I hope that somehow, we'll see brighter days in the future and the need for hiding will end. Until then, know that I love you and everything I do is for you. Find William and Ronald, if you can. Them you can trust. Be safe. Survive. Wait for me._

_Love,_

_Eric"_

* * *

Alan was usually an early riser, but the activities of the night before threw off his sleep schedule and he didn't stir until ten in the morning. He hummed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes, a smile curling his lips as he remembered the reason why he felt so sticky down in his lower region, along with a dull ache.

"Hmm, Last night was wonderful, Eric…but we should get cleaned up, would you like to shower wi—" Alan quieted himself when he looked to the side and found himself alone in the bed. "Eric?" He sat up and eased himself carefully out of bed to check the bathroom, finding it empty as well. A glance out the window proved that the man's car was gone—and he was alone again.

In a panic, Alan stumbled over to his bag and pulled out his new cell phone, calling Eric—only to be sent strait to voicemail on his new phone.

Hurt and heartbroken, Alan lowered the phone from his ear and let it drop to the floor. "Eric—why?" he choked, tears pricking his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

* * *

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

In room number two-ten—the last room available of the Grand Fairmont Hotel—William T. Spears and Ronald Knox found themselves in a rather awkward situation. After having escaped the day before with their lives by jumping from a forty foot building, William and Ronald made their way to the mortal realm and secured the room they now occupied. Ronald had helped the former supervisor clean and bandage his wounds, while a dinner was prepared and brought up to their suit. The room was large and spacious, but in it sat one single, large master bed—plenty of room for two reapers. William had been determined to make the junior officer sleep upon the floor, until he discovered that the young reaper was also injured more than either had realized. They were also informed upon their inquiry that the hotel was short on bedding and that there was no way possible for additional blankets and pillows to be provided, leaving them with one choice only.

Exhausted and in pain, both reapers compromised and divided the bed between them. Ronald on the right, William on the left. The hour had grown late and Will retired while his companion took a shower—which was a new plumbing fixture just recently installed in the hotel. William had long been fast asleep, by the time the blond joined him in bed. Now, the sun had begun to rise. The birds chirped merrily in the tree just outside their window, and the fire in the fireplace had grown cold.

The sound of a soft snore rose from the parted lips of the raven-haired reaper. His eyes moved back and forth beneath his closed lids as he dreamed. He turned his head, and his nose began to twitch. The silky thread of a blond hair grazed just inside his flaring nostril. He reached up unknowingly, only to discover more hair. Startled by his unsuspected discovery, William's eyes shot open. All he could see was a blur of yellow as he peered down.

"What the devil?! Mister Knox?!" He started as he tried to move to wake the sleeping blond. But his right arm and half of his body was trapped beneath his companion's body. "Knox! Ronald Knox, do wake up!"

Ronald moaned and reached up, grabbing a pillow and lazily plopping it down onto his head to block out the voice. He, of course, assumed it was Grell trying to wake him as his mentor often did go to make sure he woke up on time for work.

"Shuddap, 's 'm day off…" he mumbled into the pillow, his words almost completely lost.

With a sigh, he wiggled back down into his dreams, finding his spot quite comfortable, his naked body warm under the covers and tucked in snugly against his boss.

"Oh, honestly!" Will complained as he used his free arm to reach across himself and pluck the pillow covering the blond's head from his hand. He glared down at Ronald's blurry head. "Mister Knox, I must insist you wake up this instant. Do you hear me?"

Receiving only a grunt of dissatisfaction, Will used the pillow to smack the sleeping reaper over the head. "Wake up!"

"Sssen'pai…I'll cut yer hair, I swear." The blond threatened, shifting to duck under the blankets. His couch was never this comfortable—he wasn't going to waste it!

"Mister Knox!" Will tried again, smacking the blond once more with the pillow. And then his eyes grew round with shock. Something hard began to poke him in the thigh. Realizing what the only object it could possibly be was, Will hollered Ronald's name and with all his might, rolled out from under him. In the next instant, William found himself laid flat out on his stomach with the hard, cold floor underneath him.

"I said it's my day off, Grell!" Ronald snapped, rolling onto his back and sitting up, pillow in hand ready to chuck at the first red blur he spotted. But there was nothing red around him. In fact, there was nothing familiar to his sleepy mind at all. Ronald groaned, falling back onto his back and covering his face with the feathered pillow, "Where the fuck am I? Was I drinking last night?"

Carefully, William pushed himself up onto all fours. He sighed from the pain in his shoulder and turned to the bed. He used it for support as he got to his feet and peered down at the bed and the blurry reaper, who laid sprawled in the middle of it. With his hands out in front of him, he felt his way over to the night stand and found his glasses. He slipped them on, making sure they were placed correctly upon the bridge of his nose before turning back to the bed and the problem hiding beneath its pillow.

Placing a knee onto the bed, William bent over the blond. Just as he was about to grab the pillow, the sheet slipped from under his leg.

"Omph…" Will exhaled as his body flopped down atop Ronald, knocking the wind out of him.

Startled, Ronald yelped and flailed; the pillow falling off his face and onto the floor as the tips of his fingers knocked William's glasses from his face. "What the shit! Wait…who the fuck are you?" he asked, squinting to get a better look at the brunet. Or at least attempt to.

"Shit, Knox…what did you do?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes and trying to remember the night before.

"My glasses! I can't see! Damn it, Knox!" William shouted, wide eyed and nearly panicked as his hands roamed over the surface of the bed. He found nothing more that crumpled sheets and blankets. He was completely unaware that his glasses had accompanied the feather stuffed fabric to the floor. "Where did they go?! I cannot locate them!"

"Wait…William-senpai? What are you doing here? Shit! What—did we..? Oh, oh, that's not good…wait, why are you even on top of me? What's going—where are we?" Ronald sat up suddenly, banging their skulls together. "Ghnnn fuck!"

William's head bounced back from the impact. His hands flying to his forehead as he rolled onto his back and off of the blond.

Swearing, Ronald sat up and swung his legs off the bed, his toes brushing against Will's glasses and he reached down to grab them. He tossed them on the other man's stomach before standing up, the bedding falling away to expose his fully naked body. His tanned backside faced William as he stumbled towards the bathroom to splash water on his face to help wake himself up and hopefully remember what he was doing in a hotel with his boss.

William felt the cool plastic and glass land on his belly. As quickly as possible, he scooped up the black frames and slipped them back onto his face. He rolled over onto his belly—just in time to see two very round, toned butt cheeks turn into the bathroom. His mouth ran dry and he closed his eyes as a certain part of his anatomy stirred.

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" He grumbled, sliding his arms out from under him to collapse atop the white linen sheets.

"What? I gave you back your glasses before they could get stepped on." Ronald called from the bathroom, the sound of water turning on as the young reaper splashed it in his face and waited as it helped wake up the rest of his mind—and he remembered how they had fled the Dispatch and hid themselves in the mortal realm.

Ronald frowned and slapped the cold water to his face one last time, "Shit…" he muttered to himself as he reached for a hand towel to dry his face and turn off the water. He then walked back into the main room, rubbing the back of his neck, "…Still kinda screwed, aren't we?"

William looked up as the young officer reentered their suite, his eyes instantly going to the blond's groin. Shocked, he closed his eyes immediately.

"Mister Knox, would you kindly cover your nudity? This is highly improper of you!"

Pink coated William's cheeks. They felt warm as he pushed himself up blindly and turned to face the other side of the room. He sat on the edge of the opposite side of the bed and rubbed his forehead. A slight headache developing from the previous bump of heads that had occurred between them.

"Why?" The blond asked, reaching down to scratch an itch near his groin, "It's not like you've never seen a penis before. We're both guys, here. It's not like we are going to be fucking or anything. I just sleep naked. Can't stand being restricted at night. Little Knoxiewurst likes to breathe once in a while." He placed his hands on his hips and wiggled them side-to-side as he spoke about his privates.

William looked over his shoulder just in time to see Ronnie's 'little mustard seed', swing dance. Snapping his head back around to face away from the blond, Will popped open the top button to his shirt. The room had become warm and stuffy.

"Mister Knox, I won't have you like this."

"Have me?" The blond raised a blond eyebrow, "Just how are you 'having' me? We are only here because Dispatch fucked us over for some reason."

"Nude, Ronald Knox, nude!" Will replied growing a bit perturbed as he stood up. Then he looked down and frowned, discovering his bottoms were protruding slightly.

_~How insufferable! Go away! Deflate! I have no idea why you are rising to the occasion. Be gone I say!~_ He commanded his rebelling male parts.

Ronald crossed his arms, "I am nude already. What kind of perverted thoughts are you having, boss? I mean, I know I'm hot, but damn. You're so icy that I would have never thought you'd want me like that!"

"I will not have your nudity, you incompetent half-wit. Sometimes I think your former mentor rubbed off on you," Will retorted, ill mannered. "Now if you will excuse me, I believe I need a bath…a cold one."

He looked down and verified that his happy companion had returned to appropriate form, before stepping around the bed. He averted his gaze as he headed for the private bathroom attached to their room. He would have much preferred a cold shower, but the previously mentioned shower was down the hall from their room…and in his mood and condition, he did not relish the idea of making his way to it, so he settled for a cold bath instead.

"You're cold enough already." Ron huffed, falling back onto his back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "I'm going back to bed, then."

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Will returned the room, a towel secured around his waist as the sound of snoring greeting him. He marched over to the bed, finding the blond sound asleep. His eyebrow twitched with annoyance.

"Wake up, Mister Knox!" he demanded in a firm and commanding voice. "It is time to get dressed. We have things to do."

"Noisy…" Ronald complained, rolling over, "What can we even _do_? We're hiding because someone tried to _kill_ you."

"Us," corrected William. "They tried to kill _us_. They gave no regards that you or any other reaper might be in my office at the time of my assassination."

"You were the target." Ronald said, sitting up and stretching, "So you. I would have been just a casualty."

"I can guarantee that eventually you would be targeted, Mister Knox, if what I did catch of that message indicated is correct," Will replied as he picked up his under pants and began to slip them on. "I do believe there will be many targets and as you say, casualties. We must figure out who is involved and who is not. But first, I suggest breakfast."

"Do I have to dress for breakfast like some hoity-toity rich person for dinner?" Ronald joked. He'd grown up in a rich family, and he detested the customs he'd been forced to live. So, breakfast in the nude was something he often enjoyed.

Will looked down at the blond as he buttoned his pants, having slipped them on and discarded his towel on the chair by the wall. "Yes, Knox. We are in the mortal realm and as such, we must conduct ourselves accordingly. Now please, stand up and get dressed. We are having breakfast in the dinning room and then we are going to procure the additional supplies we may need in our inquiry. We will stay tonight here and then seek further accommodations tomorrow."

"Hmmmmh…" With a groan, The boy grabbed his boxers and tugged them on, "Even without a job, you are putting me to work," he complained, fishing a shoe out from under the bed.

"This is not work. This is saving our lives and hiding," Will countered as picked up his belt and threaded it through the belt loops on his trousers. "Honestly Knox, would you rather I had stayed in that office with you…let ourselves pass out and wake up in prison to find out what's going on? Or let them kill us if we were not so fortunate?"

"…Guess not." The boy pouted, looking down, his pants in hand. The look made him look even younger, somehow.

William noticed the pout on the young reaper's face, and stepped up next to him. Wanting to reassure Ronald, he placed a hand on the blond's shoulder. "I apologize for my crassness. It isn't my intention to be quite so harsh with you. I am equally as displaced as yourself. Let us get on with the day. There is much to do."

* * *

The sound of a bell jingling broke the silence, in the quaint and dismally lit shop.

A head of bright, crimson red peered in through the door. Eyes of emerald and peridot sparkled in the light provided by hanging lanterns as their soft glow touched his eyes.

"Hello?" His voice echoed in the empty shop.

Gently, he pushed the door further open and stepped into the shop. Receiving no greeting, he turned to close the door behind him. His red heels clicked against the floor as he walked across the old wooden surface of it. Once at the center of the shop, he stopped, his eyes darting to and fro.

"Undertaker?" Grell called out once more as he spun in place, gazing over every possible hiding place. He saw a doorway leading to a back room, and he slowly began to proceed in its direction.

In his hands, he clung tightly to the clutch purse he had chosen to house his cell phone and lip stick. It matched his shoes, and it was his favorite accessory. His skirt was black and form fitting, pencil style. His shirt was white as snow and he wore a waist coat of red over the top of it. Instead of a neck tie, he had chosen a red silk scarf to adorn his slender neck. His long, glorious hair was swept up into a ponytail with a ringlet on each side to frame his face.

"Undertaker, are you back there?" He asked as he approached the pink curtain.

The ancient heard the call and he held off, finding the idea of startling his new visitor highly amusing. He waited until Grell was right next to his coffin—the one next to the door leading to his living space—and he popped out of it with a maniacal grin.

"Boo."

Startled, the red reaper yelped and stumbled backwards away from the rising corpse. His foot caught on one of the lids of the display coffins as it lay next to its box. Another scream and a curse reverberated off the walls as Grell toppled into the open coffin, landing on his back. One of his heels was sent flying clear across the room and slammed into a jar that sat upon a shelf. With a loud crash, it hit the hard floor, spilling its contents.

"My goodness, you're excitable," commented the mortician with a giggle as he emerged from his favorite coffin. "Why, look at the mess you've made! Calm down, dearie."

Grell looked up at the Undertaker's face as the mortician peered down at him. His eyes narrowed on his host, and his lip curled in disgust. "I ought to reap you and send you to Hell for frightening a lady like that, you coffin-hugging, grave-digging, corpse-loving freak!"

The Undertaker merely grinned at him, and he snatched Grell's custom-made glasses right off his head. "What y' going to dooo about it?" he challenged in a sing-song, teasing voice. He danced away as the redhead snatched at the spectacles.

"Havin' a bit of trouble, are you?"

"Damn it! Give those back!" Grell hollered as he struggled to pull himself out of the coffin. "I don't have time for your… omph … ow."

Out of the coffin, Grell now lay sprawled out on the floor on his back. His eyes looked back over his head at the laughing mortician. Humiliated, he sighed and closed his eyes.

"Now I know how William feels all the time," he grumbled to himself, and he rolled over onto his stomach, then pushed himself up onto all fours.

Undertaker giggled, finding the redhead's antics all too amusing. "Here they are, m'dear. come get them, if y' can!"

"I am not above destroying your precious little shop here. Give those back now or I'll make you pay. You hear me? Give me back my glasses." Grell demanded as he carefully got his feet. His ponytail was drooping and his other heel was no longer on his foot; but laying inside the coffin he had just vacated.

Undertaker danced aside, still giggling. "Not 'till you ask me nicely."

"I am not here to play games with you, Undertaker. You will give me back my glasses, now." Grell spoke through gritted teeth. In one quick, abrasive move, he spun around. His foot swung up behind the Undertaker's calves and knocked his legs out from under him. Grell hiked his skirt and dropped to his knees, straddling the surprised reaper. Laughing mercilessly, Grell leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of Undertaker's head. His mouth hovering just above the ancient's lips.

"See? What did I tell you I would do?" whispered the redhead.

"My, my, it's been a while since a lady jumped my bones." Undertaker grinned up at him, his lazy, thick lashed eyes now visible due to his hat tumbling off in the fall and his bangs parting. On sudden impulse, he lifted his head off the floor and gave Grell a smooch on the lips.

Startled by the unexpected kiss, Grell snatched his glasses from the mortician's hand and stood up, slipping them onto his face. He shimmied as he slid his skirt back down and the straightened it, smoothing the wrinkles out with his hands.

"That was _entirely_ uncalled for!" He scolded as he peered over his shoulder at the Undertaker. "I am not here to play games! Do get up and behave. We need to talk."

Lips still tingling from the brief contact, the mortician snickered and obligingly got to his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest, his long sleeves concealing his fingers as they tapped against his arms through the material. "Oh, do we?" he smiled and he tilted his silver head inquisitively. "And just what do we have to talk about, lovely?"

"I have a proposition for you," Grell replied, bending over and retrieving one heel from the coffin. "I was sent to offer you a deal. Dispatch is under new management, and they would like you to return and offer your services. I of course think this is utter lunacy. I think you need to be locked away and undergo electric shock therapy. But this is not _my _decision to involve you."

Undertaker stared at the sight of Grell bending over, his thoughts briefly distracted by the pretty picture that the redhead made. His gaze traveled Grell's legs from beneath his bangs, and he fought a snicker as he realized how easily this creature could tempt him to join with Dispatch, if he really put his skills to good use.

Tempt him…but not necessarily sway him. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve to be sure he wasn't drooling, and he kept his voice neutral as the crimson reaper straightened up again and turned to look at him. "You might find I'd enjoy shock therapy more than what's proper, Miss. As it stands though, I'm not interested in joining your merry band of…whatever they call themselves now. Your offer doesn't tickle my pallet, I'm afraid."

Grell knew he would say that. The old nut job was not dumb, just insane. He smiled broadly, displaying his piercing white teeth. "And as I told them; you are no longer interested in the affairs of our kind, but you see my hands are tied. I have no choice but to offer you what they are willing to give you."

He slowly sauntered back up to the mad mortician and poked him in the chest with the toe of his shoe. "I don't trust you. Not after the stunt you pulled on that ship. But that is why I am here. _They_ are interested in your research."

"Are they, now?" Undertaker's voice dropped to a husky note, unconsciously. Gracious, he found this reaper far too alluring for his own good…but he was no fool. "And what do they have to offer me then, Miss Sutcliff?"

The response came out as an unconscious purr. He was prepared to summon his children if necessary, but he was confident that he could handle this wild, fey creature if he demonstrated too much aggression.

Grell swallowed hard as he looked up at the mortician. Was it getting warm? He felt like a furnace had been lit and he was about to be cooked. Giggling nervously, he stepped back and then around the Undertaker. He needed to get away from the man, and so he sought out his other high heel.

"I have no clue why they want your research. Only that you would be given your own private lab and…" He spun back around with the other shoe in his hand, after having picked it up from the floor. He was careful not to cut his bare feet on the broken glass from the smashed jar. "You would have an endless supply of corpses to play with. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

Undertaker tapped a nail against his grinning lips. "Hmm. The offer _does_ sound intriguing…"

He pretended to consider it for a while, and then he shrugged. "But you see, Miss Sutcliff, I live in London. Murders happen by the dozen in this city, so I practically have an endless supply of corpses already. They come in steady enough t' suit me. As for the lab; I've got a nice one of my own, and I grow my own apothecary supplies. You've offered me nothing I don't already have, I'm afraid. It's a bit like offering gold to a rich man."

He grinned mischievously, and he winked. "Come back when you can think of something a bit more original t' offer me. I think Dispatch can be more creative than that."

He nodded at the door, dismissing the crimson reaper.

Grell slipped his other shoe on before walking back up to the retired reaper. He licked his lips and rose up onto his toes. His hands rested delicately against the Undertaker's shoulders. In a sultry voice, Grell giggled, then whispered. "We are not offering you mortal corpses, darling lunatic."

With the proposition given, Grell backed away and dipped down. He grabbed his clutch from the floor and sauntered over to the door. He paused; his hand was on the knob as he spoke over his shoulder.

"I'll be back in a day or two. Think it over very carefully, Undertaker. The people I work for won't take 'no' for an answer."

He turned the knob and stepped out onto the busy London street. When he reached the end of the block, Grell leaned back against the wall and peeked back around the corner. He was breathing heavily and he closed his eyes.

"Pull it together girl. He was just trying to throw you off your game. You can do this. Don't be a silly twit. You know what will happen if you don't get him to join."

* * *

Inside his shop, Undertaker stood perplexed. "Did he mean they intend to offer me _reaper_ corpses? Oh dear. My, my…how very interesting. I wonder how many o' those corpses might have met their demise through the hands of their own coworkers."

He wasn't blind to the goings-on with Dispatch, these days. His network had reported to him that reapers were now killing reapers. His ravens had witnessed one agent reap his own partner on the streets of London, when his back was turned. He wasn't quite sure what exactly was going on, but he was getting the feeling that some foreign division was trying to take over the London one…and they wanted to barter his services.

The ancient frowned, leaning back against the counter thoughtfully. He had few compunctions, but to experiment on his own kind? If the death was an accident, sure…but if it were deliberately planned and executed?

"But an army of the dead wouldn't disobey or betray them," he reasoned aloud. "If they had me t' bring 'em back, they could kill troublesome agents at their leisure—without losing a soldier in their ranks…though I dare say my dollies wouldn't retain th' wit to reap souls, even if the process _would_ work on a reaper."

He was admittedly intrigued, yet at the same time, a small part of him recoiled at the thought of turning Shinigami into dolls—particularly those assassinated by their own kind. Maybe Sutcliff was pulling his leg. Maybe he didn't mean reapers at all, but demons vanquished in the field. Now, _that_ would prove interesting.

"I'd say that's the best offer they've made yet," he finally admitted with a shrug. "Still, I'm nobody's lapdog. Not anymore."

Deciding to occupy himself with other things and avoid temptation, he locked up and turned the sign over to read "closed", and then he went down into his catacombs to check on his latest creations that were due to wake up.

* * *

Eric cursed all the way to work. How could he abandon his partner like that, after…after…

He groaned, his mind replaying how passionately they'd made love. Of all the sins he'd committed, this had to be the worst. He hated it…hated himself…

…and then he hit a red light and noticed that his new, secure phone had a missed call.

"Oh mother o' shit!"

As if he hadn't done enough harm. He picked up the phone off the passenger seat where he'd put it and he brought it to his ear as he waited for the light to change.

"I'm sae sorry Alan…please pick up…"

Alan, still tearful, had moved all his things back into the car and checked out of his room. Hearing the sound of a default ring tone, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his new phone. Eric's new number was flashing across the screen. He bit his lip, leaning back against the door of his car. He hadn't left yet. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he answered and held it up to his ear,

"Er-Eric?" He hadn't seen Eric's note, and it had slipped down into his bag without his notice, so to him, it really was as if he had simply been used the night before. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer, even as he did so.

On the other line, Eric breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Lugh. Are ye a'right, Alan? I left a note but…I s'pose I should have woken ya. I jus'…if ya looked at me once more wi' those eyes of yers, I thought I'd lose it. Did ya get mah note, sweet'eart?"

"What note? There _was_ no note… and no you. Why? Why couldn't you stay with me?" Alan asked, unable to hide the tears in his voice, "I…I thought last night was the start of something special… not just a one…a one night… thing…"

Eric shook his head vehemently—and nearly ran over a pedestrian in his distraction. "No, Alan…it wasnae a single thing if I can help it. I left tae protect yeh. They're lookin' fer ya an' I couldnae stay if I din't want tae lead them to ya."

He took a deep breath as he turned off the exit that would take him downtown, to the place he once loved and now hated. "Alan, I love ya. I have for some time, now. I dun' want yeh tae be alone if I can help it, but we cannae be together right now. Gods, if I could be there…"

He swallowed. He'd do anything for this reaper, and their night together had only intensified his devotion to him. "Are ye sure ya didnae see the letter I wrote, love? I dinnae sneak out on ya. Please believe tha'."

"No, there was no letter. Eric." Alan gripped the phone tightly, "I don't like this, Eric. Not at all. I want you with me. I love you. Come back, please!"

Eric had to pull over. His eyes burned and his heart ached. He wasn't even really paying attention; it was just some random fuel station he'd found upon exiting the freeway. "I want tae. I cannae tell ya how much I want tae do just tha', Alan, but there's more at stake here than yeh know. Please, jus' get out of this realm! Stay safe an' stay hidden. I promise I'll come for ya when it's safe again, but I cannnae have ye dragged in tae this!"

"And what do you expect me to do? Worry about you every day, while you 'handle' this thing and I hide away in cheap motels?" Alan shook his head, "I'll come home. I can help you."

"No!" Eric practically shouted it, and he forced himself to calm down. "Alan, no. If ya try tae do tha', then everything I've done is for nothin'. Please…please jus'…trust me. I know I haven't given ya reason tae do it, but trust me. If yeh come in, they'll take ya. All I want is for yeh tae be safe. Please. Do this fer me."

"You can't expect me to hide and do nothing! You _know_ I can't do that. You know me more than anyone. Please…at least tell me how I can help."

Eric sighed heavily. He'd worked with Alan for a while now, and he know that his small, compassionate partner was more than capable of taking care of himself under normal circumstances. This was so _big_, though.

"If yeh want tae help me, Alan, ye'll stay safe. I'm going tae try to find Spears an' Knox before Dispatch does an' give 'em both a head's up. I'll see tae it tha' yer reunited wi' them if I can, but they're at large now. Th-the people responsible fer this already tried tae take th' boss out. I'm on _both_ sides righ' now. I've got tae play it safe an' keep _ye_ safe, a'right? Tha best ya can do fer me right now is tae stay unner th' radar."

Alan frowned, "You can't be on both sides of this, Eric. This is too big from what you hint at. Either you are helping them or you are helping…us. Me and whomever is left." Alan wiped his eyes and dried his cheeks with his sleeve, "Please, don't do anything stupid."

Eric sighed again. He wished that he could comfort the brunet, wished he could be there for him as he pleaded; but he was so thoroughly embroiled in the operation that there was no chance of that happening, anytime soon. "I know, Alan. I'm tryin' tae play it safe fer both of us. I miss ya already an' I wish there was ano'er way. I'll come tae yeh when it's safe, sweetheart. I promise."

"Please, Eric, How can I help you? Even if it's staying away…give me something more I can do. Maybe we can fight back somehow? Get Dispatch back? I'm sure Mister Spears, Ronald, and Grell would help us!"

"Ya cannae trust Grell," insisted Eric stonily. "No' now, anyway. I'm still tryin' tae figure him out. Spears and Knox yeh can trust, though. Tha's it, Alan. Dun' risk yerself puttin' trust in anyone else, understand?"

"I can't trust Grell?" Alan frowned, "Why not? He's always been a good friend of mine." He began to pace as he talked on the phone, "Wouldn't he be with Mister Spears? He fancies the man greatly. He'd be loyal."

"Grell has turned, Alan," informed Eric desperately, "like me. Regardless of past connections, yeh cannae trust him. I'm sorry. I wish it were otherwise."

Alan frowned, "But you haven't 'turned'. If you had, you wouldn't have gotten me out." He insisted. "You got caught up in this thing, and _you_ haven't turned against us." The brunet paused, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, "You are a good man, Eric."

The Scotsman snorted without humor. "A 'good man'," he repeated in a pained murmur. "I think yer tha only one of us tae still think so. I sold out to 'em 'cause I couldn't see ano'er solution. Al…if I…ah, hell…I wish I could tell ya everythin'. I wish I had ano'er choice."

He wanted to confess to him the promise they'd made him…the procedure they'd explained to him that might cure Alan's Thorns and save him from death. He couldn't, though, because he didn't want to get the younger reaper's hopes up. He swallowed and shut his eyes. "I'll do mah best tae find Will an' Ron before they can, an' when I do, I'll figure out a way fer them tae meet up with ya. I…I dinnae want yeh tae be alone. I love ya."

"You're not being truthful to me." Alan sighed, sitting on the hood of his car, "Eric, I love you, too, but I want you to tell me the truth—all of it. I need to know the whole truth of what's going on—and why you can't run with me. Help me understand. Please." He was on the verge of tears again as he pleaded into the phone.

Eric cursed softly, his hand tightening around the steering wheel. The soft curse turned more vehement as he struggled inwardly. "Fuck. _Fuck_!"

The heartfelt obscenity was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he took his hand off the steering wheel to rub his forehead. Alan wasn't going to let this go, and he was the one person in existence that Eric could not bring himself to lie to. "A'right, they promised me a cure fer tha Thorns, okay? They…they have access tae treatment tha' could save yer life, Alan. I cannae pass that up. If there's even a chance they could save ya, I've go' tae take it."

Alan relaxed, His eyes taking on a look of sorrow, "Eric…there _is_ no cure. You know that." He swallowed, "You need to stop chasing phantom cures for me. We…we could enjoy more time together if you didn't chase after these myths. We could be together."

"But this one's _real_," insisted the Scotsman. "It makes perfect sense! I could even do it, if I had tha experience tae meddle wi' cinematic records tae try it, Al. I don't, though…I could jus' make it worse by tryin' myself, so we need their specialist tae pull it off. Please, jus' give me more time. I jus' need tae stay a while longer, an' when I've go' tha opportunity, I can bring him tae ye an' ye'll have a fightin' chance!"

"It's not _real_, Eric! You need to accept that. I've accepted it." Alan sighed, "Besides, even if it _is_ real, if it did work. They wanted me, right? That's why you sent me away? Why would their specialist cure me after that? And why wouldn't they publish the cure? I'm not the only reaper with Thorns. They would be a hero of our realm for curing the un-curable."

"They wanted tae bring ya into it, aye," agreed the Scotsman, compressing his lips. He was getting frustrated. Alan's admonishments made him feel like a child chasing after a fairytale, but the brunet hadn't seen the things he had. "Maybe yer willin' tae give up an' die, but I'm no' willing tae sit back an' watch it happen. I'm sorry, Alan. I'll be in touch wi' ye. Jus' wait fer me an' stay safe."

He couldn't bear to listen to another argument from him, so he hung up. He put the phone on silence, and he took a few moments to compose himself, breathing heavily with emotion. He had no choice. He was doing this for the only person that truly mattered to him, and he couldn't falter now. Maybe one day, Alan would understand and forgive him. He had to produce the cure before he could expect him to believe it, though.

With grim determination, the Scotsman firmed his resolve and put his car into gear again, pulling out of the service station's parking lot and into traffic.

* * *

"Must you do that, Mister Knox? Weren't you taught manners at some point in your existence?" Will asked, annoyed as he sat his cup of tea back down upon the table. His eyebrow twitched as he watched the young reaper cram a hunk of ham into his mouth. "Honestly!"

"Of course I was. But after seventeen years of having manners shoved down my throat I figure I can actually enjoy my food now," Ronald said, his cheeks puffed out and full of food as he spoke. He picked up his glass and took a sip to wash it all down, "Nothing's worse than having to eat like you're dining at the Queen's table, every meal. Such tiny bites. Can't even tell they are off the fork."

"That does not mean you have to stuff your face like a starved, crazed neanderthal. And do _not_ talk with your mouth full. No one wishes to see that." Will harrumphed, picking up his fork and stabbing his eggs.

"You sound like my mother." Ron rolled his eyes with a shrug, "There's no one here to impress." he scooped some eggs onto his fork and shoveled them into his mouth. "An' if dere is, den why change who I am to impress someone I don' really know?"

With his free hand, William pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of all the reapers I had to run away with…"

Taking a deep breath, Will decided on a different tactic and he tried once more to get the boy to understand his plight. "Mister Knox? Please try and understand me. I am your boss, and now your roommate. I am only asking for a bit of respect and courteousness. So again I ask, please refrain from speaking with your mouth full and use a certain amount of decorum when we eat."

Ron wagged his finger at William and swallowed. "Not my boss. Not anymore. No more Dispatch, and things are about to get real messy with uncollected souls." He eyed the untouched sausage on William's plate. "You going to eat that?"

"I beg your pardon?" Will replied as he followed to where the blond was pointing on his plate. Aggravated and insulted, he looked up as his eyebrow twitched. "As a matter of fact I am, Mister Knox and I am still your senior, even if Dispatch has been temporarily thrown into chaos."

"You eat slow. Can't blame me." he shrugged, finishing off his orange juice. "Hey, do you think the others are okay? I mean, with what happened to us in your office, I'm sure word got out about it."

"To be honest, I have no idea. One would hope there are some that can be trusted, but until we discover who they may be and who are corrupted, I am afraid we are solely on our own. Making contact is going to prove to be a challenge. Using our phones will only jeopardize us."

"Don't have mine." Ron shrugged, "I had left it on my desk. It was only supposed to be a quick run to your office and back. I'm reaper technology-free. Other than my glasses, of course."

"Good. One less thing we have to worry about. I have mine, but I shall refrain from using it until we need to." Will nodded, glad to hear he didn't have to risk that with the blond. "After we are finished here, I believe we shall make a list of those we trust and those we know we cannot. We'll make a list of those that we are unsure of and hold off on contacting them until we know more. Does that sit well with you, Mister Knox?"

"Aren't we unsure of…everyone? Heck, how do we know we can trust each other?" Ron half-joked with a smirk.

"I can assure there are reapers in the Dispatch that I would stake my eternal life on. They have never done anything that would make me consider them as back-stabbers or betrayers. However, I would not be surprised if the majority of them are dead or in prison by now. Or they will be soon."

"Well…what about Grell? Alan and Eric?" Ron suggested, "Even that old geezer you look up to, or Father Anderson?"

Will shook his head, "Not Grell. That one would side with anyone who would gain him better ground. Mister Humphries…I would say yes. Slingby and the Undertaker, one cannot say at this time. I believe we should try and locate Mister Humphries and hope that he is still alive and not in prison. We ought to check in with Undertaker as well. He was a fugitive and no longer works for Dispatch. We may be able to persuade him to help us. That is, if no one has gotten to him first."

"Hey, But Grell's my senior. I work with him daily! I would have noticed if someone got to him." Ron insisted, not wanting to believe that he had been working so closely with a potential traitor. "And Eric-Senpai…he's my best friend. We went out drinking together two nights ago! I crashed on his couch!"

"And I don't doubt that had you not been in my office at the time of my discovery, they would still be your friends and potentially recruiting you. Of course, that depends on if they are a part of what is going on or not," replied William as he picked up his morning tea and sipped it.

"They can't be!" Ron insisted, "They are my only two real friends, Senpai. We can trust them. I know we can."

Agitated by the young reaper's persistence, William cracked. He slammed his fist down on the table, causing the silverware and plates to clang. Then he glared at the blond over the brim of his tea cup, still held in his other hand. "No. I am afraid we cannot not trust them any longer. Not at least until proven otherwise. Not every reaper we know is going to be trustworthy. You need to understand that. You are acting like a child. I must insist you desist at once."

"Well _excuse me_ for having faith in my friends. But that must be a foreign thing for you, huh?" Ronald stood up, glaring at William, "I'd trust them over your heartless arse, any day!"

With that said, he turned on his heel and stormed off, heading back to their hotel room. "Fucking—stupid—Spears!" he grumbled.

Exasperated, Will let out a long-winded sigh and hung his head, carefully sitting his cup down in the process. It would do neither one of them any good to fight, but here they were do exactly that. Picking up his napkin, he wiped his mouth before motioning to the waiter.

The waiter, a tall man with brown skin and short black hair walked over, a stained apron tied around his waist and a clean towel over his shoulder. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"No. I would just like the bill. I believe we are done with our breakfast and need to be on our way. Thank you." Will replied glancing up and nodding.

"Yes, sir. One moment." The young man nodded, hurrying off to collect their bill and returning, handing it over to William before starting to clear the table.

Will took one last sip of his water before standing and walking to the service counter to handle the payment for their bill. He nodded respectfully with the young woman appeared to collect the payment. With the debt settled, he headed for the staircase that lead to their room. Sick to his stomach with regret, Will stood in the hall thinking and prepared himself. Assured he was calm and able, he rapped lightly upon the door.

"Fuck you," The grumpy blond's voice answered. He'd left the door unlocked simply so that he wouldn't have to actually get up to let the man in. He was seated in the open window, looking down at the street below as he sat on the sill, his leg hanging out and dangling outside.

Checking the knob and finding it unlocked, Will opened the door and stepped into the room. The sun was bathing Ronald in a warm light, creating a celestial aura around him. Will paused and just stared. He had never seen the young reaper look like that before and he was captivated by the scene. His anger and frustration melted away completely. Will could have cared less that the blond had just told him to "fuck off".

Slowly, Will approached him and he cleared his throat. "I forgot myself downstairs. I am displeased with myself, for having lost my temper. We need to work together not kill each other. May we move on and have peace between us?"

"I don't know…can we?" The blond asked, turning his head to look at William, "You just told me I can't trust the only two people I have ever truly trusted completely since I became a full reaper. Sure, I'm young, rowdy…and I make mistakes. But Grell and Eric have been the only ones to truly care as they help me…as they teach me to better myself as an officer. What am I if I can't trust them anymore? Just another idiot who'd get himself killed?"

He sighed and looked back out the window. "I know Senpai makes mistakes…and is annoying ninety percent of the time…but he's like an older sibling to me…and Eric? He's saved my drunken arse from enough bar fights to last for lifetimes."

"Then let us hope that they are not already involved. Let us hope we can still trust them. But I only request not to throw caution to the wind. It is far to dangerous to do anything rash." Will spoke carefully as he sat down across from the blond, on the windowsill. "I've known Grell for a very long time. He is fickle as the day is long, but I would hope that he is still an ally…though I am afraid that if push came to shove, he would do what he felt he needed to do. Even if that meant doing something wrong."

"…And…Eric?" Ronald asked, still not looking at William, and rather looking down at a shop-keeper sweeping the pavement outside his door.

"He's a good reaper. Still, he may have a reason to side with the ones behind this. It is much too early to say. Hence the reason I wanted to form lists. I want us to get in touch with whomever we can trust, that is in hiding, first. Then…" Wanting to reassure the blond, Will reached over and touched his knee. "You are not alone, Ronald. We will figure this out, together. We will find our colleagues and find out where they stand."

"This sucks shit." Ronald frowned, "How are we even supposed to find anyone if they are in hiding? They are in hiding for a reason! To hide and not be found by the jerk-asses with poisoned gas."

William nodded in agreement. This was going to prove to be a tiresome trial; and not one he looked forward to either.

"We will just have to find a way. Most will eventually make their way down here, where it is easier to hide from our kind, but they will try to blend in as we are. We will need to think carefully about places that the reapers we know would go to hide or feel safe. That may be our only hope in finding them."

"Like where? I don't even feel save here. I doubt I'd feel safe in any of my pubs. Lots of reapers know where I like to go and we can't trust them. I'm sure others would be the same way."

"Perhaps if we go in search of supplies, some ideas will began to form in our head. The day is warm and the streets are crowded. We can blend in. We may even be fortunate to find a place we can hide out in that is less public than this hotel," Will suggested, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Come Ronald, we need to be away. There is much to be done and the day is wasting away."

* * *

Eric had to report in before heading out for the day's reaping assignment. Souls still needed to be collected after all, and that was still his primary job when they didn't send him on the odd mission to prove is loyalty in the most sickening way. He reported to Anderson again, his stomach growling from lack of breakfast even though he felt he might throw up anything he tried to eat, right now.

"I havenae found Alan yet," he told his superior. "Went by his apartment an' found a lo' of things missing."

"So you believe he's defected?" Lawrence tapped his pen absently on the documents laid out on his desk.

"He's loyal tae Dispatch," answered the Scotsman firmly. "But he's sick. He was lookin' in tae different treatments he could try, an' he knows I worry about him. Since I haven't had tha chance tae talk to him about wha's goin' on an' tell him about tha treatment, odds are he went off somewhere tae try somethin' else and he dinnae want me fretting o'er it. He's no traitor. He loves his job an' he'd do wha'ever's best fer Dispatch…even if he doesnae like it."

The older reaper glanced toward the window thoughtfully, his pensive gaze staring out at the skyline. "Then you believe he can be convinced to take up the cause?"

Eric nodded. "Once it's explained tae him…but I need tae be th' one tae approach him wi' it. He's known me since reaper academy an' he trusts me."

"And you believe he's taken off somewhere to seek alternative medical treatment for his condition," mused Anderson.

Again, Eric nodded. "I've seen him researching it…_sir_. Only a few things were missin' from his place, so wherever he went, he's plannin' tae come back. I'm sure he'll contact me when he gets there an' let me know. He wouldnae run from this wi'out comin' tae me an' asking me tae come wi' him."

Anderson looked at him for a long time, measuring him with his eyes. Finally he nodded. "Very well, then. The moment he contacts you, you are to inform us immediately and action must be taken to bring him back."

Eric nodded, because there was nothing else he could do.

Lawrence looked at the paperwork on his desk. "Sutcliff is still out on a mission that we hope will prove a success. I'm afraid you'll need to take on some of his reaping assignments today. We've begun to get backed up again, and we've lost too many souls to demons."

Eric snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe tha's because ye've killed off too many agents tha' would o'erwise be out there collecting righ' now."

The older reaper raised a brow at him. "Your talents are appreciated, Slingby, but you _can_ be replaced. Please keep that in mind."

"Always do…_sir_." Eric took death list intended for Grell that the older man offered to him, and he excused himself to get started.

* * *

"Five down," muttered the Scottish reaper after finishing his latest collection. He sighed, looking at the list. "Twenty more tae go. Shite, I miss mah partner."

Thinking of how he missed working with him at his side naturally made him think of other ways he missed Alan, and his mind again went back to the desperate passion they'd shared the night before. As he left the home of his latest acquisition and started walking down the street, he thought of the way Alan's soft, gentle eyes gazed up at him with trust and a little fear, and the way they widened with pleasure once it really got started. The sound of his sweet voice spurring him on, crying his name with such feeling as he…

…Wait…was that a flash of yellow-blond he'd just spotted across the street? He did a double-take, his heart pounding with hope. The build was right; small like Alan, blond cowlick, darkening to black at the collar…no mortals in this time period would color their hair like that or have it naturally occurring, either. The young man's back was turned to him as he walked away, heading towards the market.

Eric put away his list and banished his scythe, purposely keeping himself cloaked from mortal view. He needed to get ahead of him to be sure, and if it was who he thought it was, he'd be able to see him and hear him. He began to sprint, leaping over obstacles with ease that even the most athletic mortals could not duplicate.

_~Let it be him,_~ he begged to any divine beings that might be listening. _~Let him be alive.~_

He got ahead of the small crowd that the blond was blending in with, keeping him in sight thanks to that bright head of hair. He ought to be wearing a cap or something to hide it a little…make it less recognizable. Ronald Knox didn't always consider such things though, and after what had happened—if it really was him—then he was probably still reeling over it.

Deciding he was close enough in range to make himself known without giving him a scare, Eric called out to him. "Ronnie!"

Hearing his name, Ronald stopped dead in his tracks. The crowd moved on without him, and a few people bumped his shoulders as they passed; some apologizing, some not. The blond turned towards where he thought he'd heard the voice, and seeing the tall, built form of his best friend, his eyes widened in confusion as to what he should do. He and William had split up to get things done faster, so William wasn't around to be attacked. He was the target, after all. But should he run? That could spell out bad news for him as it was obvious he'd already been spotted somehow. But if he approached him…

Uhg! Both options were risky if Eric wasn't trustworthy like William suggested.

Taking a deep breath, he made up his mind and stepped forward, making his way over to Eric. He could always run later…right?

"Eric-senpai?" he asked cautiously.

Eric crossed the distance, casting a quick look around to be sure there weren't any other agents nearby. "Let's get outta sight," he suggested in a low voice to the blond. "Gotta make this quick, a'right?"

"I…guess…" Ron frowned, following Eric to an alley, but he didn't let himself be pulled in too far so that he'd have a better chance at getting away of needed, "What's going on?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I think ya prolly know tha' already," answered the Scotsman with a sigh. He looked him over for injuries. Ronald had at least chosen to dress like a mortal civilian. "But I'll tell ye wha' I can. Ya need tae be wearin' a hat when ya go ou' in public, kid. Tha' hair's a dead giveaway, even if ye aren't in Shinigami uniform. Did Will make it too?"

"Maybe." Ronald shrugged, "How would I know?" He hated having to be suspicious of his best friend. He felt like he was being so cold to him.

Eric smirked and huffed dryly. "If I was gonna bring ye in or call th' hounds on ye, would I have hollered at ye an' let ya see me? Come on, Ronnie. I'm no' tha' thick." He shrugged, "But I cannae blame ya. Dun' trust anyone…no' even me. Far as I'm concerned, I ne'er saw ye and ya ne'er saw me either after this, clear?"

Ronald relaxed, "Yeah, yeah, I knew I could trust you! I knew you weren't a huge idiot to help whatever this thing is!"

Eric winced. "Actually, I'm workin' fer tha one's responsible fer this takeover…but I'm no' on their side." He cast another wary look around and he spoke in a low voice. "I'm gonna give ye Alan's contact number. Get yerself a secure phone an' dinnae use yer company one. He's all alone ou' there an' in hiding, like yeh are. They go' me when they go' Grell. Dun' try tae contact him, 'cause I cannae guarantee he can be trusted an' even if he can, they could use _his_ phone tae track tha number back tae ya, even if ya use an unknown number."

He dug out his secure phone—the one he kept hidden in his car when he was in the office—and he searched for Alan's new contact number. "Please, Ronnie…meet up wi' him an' take care of each other. Will too, if ya know where he's at. They're takin' o'er every division, every branch…an' those tha' havenae gone 'dark' by now are either dead, workin' fer them or imprisoned."

Ronald frowned again, "How can you be with them but not at the same time?" He asked, clearly confused, "And I don't have any phone. It's back on my desk. Trying to escape doesn't give much time for grabbing things, you know. What even _is_ this? Who'd want to overthrow dispatch? Demons? Angels?"

"Other reapers," explained Eric. "It's a regime o' sorts, Ronnie. I cannae say jus' how it started, but they've been slowly takin' over fer years, starting wi' tha bigger divisions an' branching ou'. They've got specialized scythes, eyes and ears everywhere an they're ruthless. Grell made a deal wi' them tha' you an' Spears aren't tae be killed. They were gonna try an' recruit ya, but Will's too much of a risk an' so they'd planned tae lock him up. I guess ye jus' happened tae be in there when he stumbled across a file they din't want him tae see an' last I heard, ya both go' away afore they could detain ya."

He sighed. "As fer me, if I'm on a side, it's Alan's. Tha's th' simplest way I can put it."

"And…what side is Alan on?" Ronald asked slowly, scratching the back of his head, "I should know if you want me to trust you and call him."

"Same side as you, Ronnie. I go' him out o' here as soon as tha hammer started dropping. Came back an' found out ye an' tha boss disappeared, so it must have all happened 'round tha same time. I dun' want him tae be alone. Jus' look after him fer me while I get wha' I need from these bastarts, will ya?"

"I…guess… But this better be legit! Spears would kill me if I let you lead me into a trap." Taking out a pen, he rolled up his sleeve and copied Alan's number down onto his forearm, "You do me a favor, too, though. Make sure my bike isn't stolen or damaged. I just got that thing. It was a pain to save up for. It's parked in the dispatch lot C. Keys are in the top drawer of my desk."

"If I can find a way tae get it to ya, I will," promised Eric, "but it'll need tae be debugged, like mah car. They've probably go' a tracer on it somewhere. Plus, yeh cannae go drivin' it 'round in tha mortal realm. That'd draw attention tae ye fast."

He sighed again and looked around. "I'd best get goin'. I'll call Alan when I get tha chance an' let him know ye'll be gettin' in touch wi' him."

He looked at the younger reaper for a second, and he reached out for him. "Come 'ere, kid."

Without waiting for a reply, Eric pulled him into a brief hug and patted his back. "Take care o' yerself. If I find they've go' a lead on any of ya, I'll do mah best tae warn ye." He let go of him and he turned to go, unwilling to risk any of his other "associates" tracking him down and finding his party mate.

"Yeah—you be careful, you big idiot!" Ron called after him before fixing his sleeve and turning to hurry back out to the crowd. Maybe he did need a hat, though. Making a mental note to pick one up if he passed a shop that sold them, he continued about his chores William had assigned him.

* * *

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey! That tickles!" the redhead giggled as a pair soft, pink lips pressed gentle kisses to his throat. His red-painted nails scraping the back of broad, strong shoulders. Dozens of candles blanketing him and his lover in soft, warm candlelight were placed in various places of Grell's master suit. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the night. The sheets were blood red and hugging his waist. Their clothes were flung all over the room. Grell's red, lace panties hung from his standing mirror in the far corner. A pair of midnight blue boxers lay across the footboard. The sound of panting and giggling echoed off the hunter-green painted walls.

"You're such a naughty reaper." whispered Grell. He let out another giggle as his tongue glided along the edge of his lover's ear. "Tasty, too. I could just eat you alive."

"If that's what you want, beautiful…or, I could eat you." Grell's companion husked, shifting against him and starting to nibble up along his neck, his hands sliding down Grell's sides to his hips, "Treat you like the lady you are…and the bad girl you are." he smirked, slapping Grell's shapely ass suddenly.

Grell yelped and burst into another fit of giggles. Both sets of his cheeks were blushing.

"Are you going to punish me, darling?" Grell asked, his eyes closing as he arched his back, pressing his groin into his lover's abdomen. "I've been a really bad girl today. I let that demon kiss me. Here…"

Taking, his companion's hand, Grell placed his fingers against his lips.

"And then he kissed me here, and here, and lastly…."

Slowly, the redhead trailed his lover's fingers down over his jawbone to his neck. Then he continued to gradually slide then down his chest, pausing at his stomach before he continued to move them down to his blooming sex.

William's eyes flashed and he forced Grell down onto the bed, "How _dare_ you let filth like that touch you! Now I'll have to clean you back up. You reek of demon," He growled, pressing his lips to Grell's, fiercely kissing him and pinning him down, slipping his leg between pale thighs.

"Mmmm…." Grell moaned as he fisted his hands. Blood trickled from the sides and onto the sheets as his sharp nails pierced his delicate flesh. Panting heavily now, he tore his lips from William's. "Yes, darling, I'm a wicked, wicked reaper. Make me beg for forgiveness."

William growled, attacking Grell with kisses in an animalistic manner, unable to keep his hands off the redhead. He worked his way lower and lower, until he was between his legs and he looked up at Grell, meeting his gaze and opening his mouth to speak again-

And a shrill, digitized melody left his lips.

Grell opened his eyes and looked down at his lover. "Will, what did you just say?"

The tune sounded again as William opened his mouth to respond anew.

Confused, Grell slithered out from under him and stared blankly. The shrill tune grew louder as Will tried to speak once more. The room went dark and then the candles re-ignited. They began to flicker in and out as the sound grew even louder. Frightened, Grell scooted further back away from his lover and former boss. Not aware he was near the edge, Grell's hand slipped off the side and he tumbled from the bed. The floor seemed to vanish from under him and he continued to fall. His arms and legs flailed in front of him as William peered over the edge down at him. His eyes flickered with the candles and the digital melody emanated from his mouth.

"Noooo….!" Grell screamed, covered in sweat as he sat up in the middle of his large bed, in the middle of his master suit. He looked down at the cellular phone next to him, on his pillow. The tune of Beethoven's fifth symphony played as the light on the screen flashed on and off with the pulse of the tune.

Quickly, he snatched it up and flipped it open. "What the Hell do you want? I was trying to sleep." He snapped as he answered it.

His eyes narrowed. "Is there a particular reason why you have selected me to confront the old bat? You do realize I have little desire to associate with him. Not after the things he has pulled. You do remember the boat incident, don't you? The son of a bitch nearly destroyed me and the 'little love sick pup'."

Grell listened carefully and then gritted his teeth as he replied. "Yes, of course. You don't need to remind me. I'll get there as soon as I can. I'll use whatever means necessary. Just you keep your end of the bargain."

Angry and frustrated, Grell slammed the phone closed and threw it at the door to his bedroom.

"Lucifer's burning cock! I should have never agreed to this."

* * *

"Girly…super girly… flowery and girly…damn, are their any men's hats around here?" Ronald huffed. He'd finished his list of things to do and had stopped in a hat store he'd passed on his way to meet back with William; but every hat on display was too feminine of a style for his tastes. Though Grell would have loved quite a few of the hats in the shop. Lace, flowers, satin…nothing. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed. He didn't have time to find another shop, but Eric had been right about him needing one. He probably stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Hey, do you have any _guy_ hats here? Or just…you know, something simple and lacking the girly shit?"

"That was quite uncalled for, young man. How indecent of you to use such profanity in front of a lady." The woman behind the counter scolded, wagging her finger at the young man with strange hair. "As to your question, I am afraid this shop caters strictly to the ladies of London. If you would like a gentlemen's hat, you will need to go down the street and turn right at the corner. Three doors down on your right will be one. It is up to date on the latest fashions for gentlemen."

Ronald sighed and turned on his charm, flashing her a bright smile, "I'm sincerely sorry. I've been having a very hard day. It was wrong of me to take it out on you." He pointed up at his hair, "Someone pulled a practical joke on my hair and it looks like a circus attraction. I have an important meeting today that I'm running late for, so I was really hoping to find a nice-looking hat before I'm overly late meeting with a Duke. It wasn't supposed to be me, mind you. My father fell ill and can't attend the meeting today."

"And as I said before young man, I have no hats for gentleman. However, if you'd like to buy a pretty bonnet, I'd be more than happy to give you a deal." She winked, not falling for his charm, but doing her best to turn it back on him.

"Oh, you're good." He sighed, "I was hoping you had something hidden in back. I really am running late for my meeting with Duke Spears." He turned, heading out the door.

Ronald sighed, hurrying down the streets, searching for the other hat shop, "Stupid hats…can't make this easier, can they?" he muttered to himself as he almost walked right past his destination due to looking on the wrong side of the street.

"Haa! Tricky shop." he gasped, spinning around and hurrying into the shop, finally greeted by displays of men's styles of head wear. Now…to find one that was both affordable and looked good on him.

Will stood on the corner of Brook Street and Piccadilly, glancing at his watch. Ronald was late as usual and Will was growing more concerned by the moment. Every tick of the second hand was making his eye twitch. First irritation, and then the thought that he might possibility have been found by Dispatch crossed his mind. He glanced up once more and looked down to his left. He searched vigilantly, hoping to see his blond head making its way down the boulevard, but to his dismay, there was no sign of him.

"Mister Knox, where on Earth have you gotten to? If you are only flitting about you are putting us at great risk. I must insist you show yourself at once." He grumbled as he turned his attention the other direction.

His eyes narrowed in on a blond head, but the person was surround by the crowds and to far for him to make out for certain. Following his gut, he crossed Piccadilly and pursue the blond. From the glimpses he caught, it was indeed a young man. Quite possibly Ronald.

"Pardon me." He apologized as he bumped into a young woman as he crossed the packed thorough fair. He bowed his head in sincerity, then looked back up in time to the see the young man dive into a shop.

Continuing on his way, Will stopped before the shop and glanced into its window. There before him, trying on a hat, was the missing soul to their duo.

"Thank the stars," he whispered as he opened the door and went in. "I was beginning to believe you had been discovered. I hope that you have not been gallivanting while you were suppose to be collecting supplies."

Ronald stiffened, freezing as he reached to take the black fedora off his head to replace it with a black homburg that had a white ribbon encircling it that he thought he'd like better. Slowly, he turned to look at the stoic man, "Heh, Sorry I'm late?"

"Would you care to explain where you have been, and why you are so terribly late as usual? Honestly Mister Knox, if the whole of Dispatch were chasing us and we had to be on a boat, out of this forsaken country, you would still manage to be late. Despite your hide being on the chopping block. Which in essence, it currently is."

"That's exactly why I am late!" Ronald insisted, switching the hats and looking in the mirror, "Hiding my hair so I'm not so easily spotted by the dicks that tried to off you."

"Correction. You may be a victim of happenstance, but they tried 'off you' as well," Will replied as he took a seat in one of the offered guest chairs and watched the young reaper try on another hat. "At least you thought of something useful. It is true your hair stands out amongst the mortals and would quickly identify you as something out of the ordinary. I will give you credit, there."

Ronald bit his lip, not mentioning out loud that it was Eric's idea. William didn't trust Eric, after all…Hell, Eric didn't even seem to trust himself.

"What, have something against my hair?" He asked, switching the hats back to compare the two. They were the same style. Only one was all black and the other had the white on it. He liked both but would have to choose one.

William raised his brow in question. While he thought the colouring a bit odd, it was natural and not the blond's fault for its two-toned appearance. "Not at all, Mister Knox. You cannot help what was given you upon the day you were born. And in some odd round-about way, it suits you."

"Doesn't mean you don't think it's stupid." Ron muttered, turning around, "Which one looks better, Senpai?"

"The solid black one." Will replied crisply.

Ron glanced at the two and gave a nod, handing the black one to the shopkeeper. "I'll be wearing it out," he said, digging his wallet out of his pocket.

William rose from his chair and glanced out the shop window as he waited for Ronald to pay for his hat. Unexpectedly, a flash of light had him automatically shielding his eyes. Something from across the street was reflecting the sunlight and aiming it directly into the hat shop. He stepped back behind the hat display and carefully peered out against the glare. His eyes narrowed and then expanded. The gleaming light was bouncing off a scythe, held by a young reaper who was speaking with a couple whom he assumed was mortal.

"Ronald, are you sure you are happy with the decision you have made on the hat? Perhaps another style or color would suit your needs. We need not exit the shop just yet." Will inquired as he backed further into the shop and away from the window, his eyes never leaving the reaper across the street.

"I like this style best and you said the all-black one looked better." Ronald shrugged, handing over a few bills to the shopkeeper and placing the hat on his head, "Besides, I was late meeting with you, why suddenly tell me to take my time? Do you want a hat, too? Not like your hair stands out, and our funds are kinda limited."

Will was trying to do his best not to make the shopkeeper take an interest in them, beyond customers. But hiding and skipping around what needed to be said was not his usual way of handling things, and he was quite unsure how to inform the blond without making the mortal suspicious.

"A thought occurred to me that you may want other options in your attire. Options are always a good thing, like having various exits from a room. That is, in case of emergencies. One never knows what the day will bring…or who you will meet," Will replied, nudging the blond's foot gently with the toe of his shoe. He was going for subtleness and failing miserably. "Right Mister Knox? Options?"

"…Were you drinking while waiting for me?" Ronald asked, clearly not catching on to what William was trying to tell him, "A hat's a hat, I got one and we can be on our way back to the hotel to figure out what to do next."

"No, Mister Knox. I would very much like to see you try on a few more hats. We can afford to buy you another, and then you can have options, in case we meet a few old friends on our way back to the hotel…and they invite us to dinner or something." Will gritted his teeth, this time nudging the blond's foot a tad harder than he intended.

"Ow! Why'd you kick me?" The blond lifted his foot and shook it.

Daring to glance at the blond, William replied. "Because Mister Knox, our friends maybe closer than you realize. Now, would you care to try on more hats or are you happy with your decision?"

"I…am…" Ronald frowned, "What are you trying to tell me, boss? We' don't have any friends to bump into for dinner."

"Oh, honestly!" Will sighed, then smiled up at the shopkeeper—who was now staring between the two of them. "I beg your pardon. The boy is a bit daft in the head. Please excuse us a moment."

Will turned Ronald from the counter and lowered his voice. "Look across the street. One of our friends is searching for someone—or something. He is stopping people on the street and showing them either a photograph, or a drawing. One must assume…do you now understand why we need you to have more options in your wardrobe, Mister Knox? That is, unless of course, you wish to speak with our friend across the street."

"…Oh…crap." Ronald looked out the window and frowned, "I really don't need another hat, though, but…Hey, Senpai!" With a grin, Ronald grabbed a bowler hat and shoved it on William's head.

Will's eyes looked straight up and then to the blond as he frowned. "I doubt that is necessary, Mister Knox. Hats do not suit me. Though we need a plan to get out of here without being found out; and the gentleman behind the counter is growing more suspicious by the minute."

"You made it suspicious, I was simply buying a hat." Ron shrugged. "Plus, if hats don't suit you, it'd be a good disguise for us to sneak out into a crowd and hurry on our way."

Glancing back at the shopkeeper, Will whispered. "You have a point. However, I am not wearing such a dastardly looking hat. Let me try that one on over there."

Will pointed to a black gentleman's cap, on a display head, upon the shelf next to Ronald's shoulder. "That style is more to my liking, Mister Knox."

"This one was closer—I could have grabbed that boater's hat over there." he teased, pointing, "either way, you have hat-head now."

Grimacing, Will placed the cap on his head and looked in the mirror. "This one will do."

He walked to the counter and pulled his billfold from his pocket and inquired the price. "How much do I owe you for this fine cap, and like the young man, I shall wear it out."

Ronald snickered, "You're right…hat's aren't you." He laughed as his boss paid for the hat. "Well, a top hat, maybe, but that's it."

William turned around, having paid the man, and he tucked his billfold back into his coat pocket. The reaper was still standing across the street. The only luck for them was that he was on the opposite side of the street.

"Now, Mister Knox, I suggest we turn right as he seems to face the other direction when he speaks. We can go around the block, make our way back to the hotel and figure out our next course of action. What say you? Is it a plan?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Keep our heads down and move fast." Ronald agreed, walking to the door and looking out, "There's a large crowd of people coming up the street. We can slip in with them."

"Good. Lets go." Will replied as the crowd came up in front of the shop.

Carefully, they stepped into the flow of people, moving like a school of fish down the boulevard. Upon reaching the next intersection, William and Ronald broke free of the group and darted down the next street and hurried back to the hotel. Once inside, they dashed up the stairs and locked themselves away in their rented room.

Ronald dropped his purchases on the table before walking over and flopping forward onto the bed. "Avoiding our own people sucks. And we need a better way of letting each other know things like that than you kicking me and telling me to buy more hats."

Will removed his hat and hung it upon the hat rack just inside the door. He sighed as he turned the young reaper. He was right, but this was all new to the normally frank reaper. He did not like being forced to hide and he did not enjoy being cooped up and away from his things.

"My apologies, Mister Knox. I was not sure how to gain your attention, without blurting: 'There is a reaper across the street. We need to sneak out of here,' and not have the mortal getting involved with our affairs."

Ronald sighed, "How about we come up with some random name like…Philip. We could say 'Philip is waiting for us' when one of us spots a dispatch officer." he suggested with a shrug.

"That could possibly work." Will nodded as sat down on the bed. "We should see about trying to get a hold of a few reapers. I would say our best bet would to start with Jeffries, Donaldson and Humphries. They all have a reason that would make them targets and I did see Donaldson's and Humphries' names on the list of reapers that are to be brought in for questioning."

"Must not be in A-B-C order, that list." Ron joked, "How do we contact them, though? What if the dispatch issued phones aren't safe to use? We could get new phones if we sneak back into the realm, but their numbers would be the same."

Will looked up at Ronald and pulled out his standard issued cell. He flipped it open and began searching the list of contacts. Donaldson came up first. "I have each one listed. Though I am hesitant to try inside the hotel. If Dispatch traces it, it could lead them straight here."

He got up and walked over to the window and looked out. They were not far from Hyde Park.

"Can you keep watch here, while I make my way to the park? I shall try from there and see if I can get in touch with either of them. The park offers many places to hide or escape and will not lead Dispatch back here, to the hotel, giving us another night to stay here."

"What should I do if I see trouble heading your way?" Ron asked with a nod. "Stay put? Go out after you?"

"Stay put." Will replied as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. "Don't leave this room until I return."

"Unless you get caught," Ronald sighed, "Boss…don't get caught," he added as an afterthought as the man walked back over to the door.

Will removed the cap from the rack and plopped it back on his head. He turned back to the blond and nodded. "I can assure you, I am not going to get caught. They appear to be sending younglings from the academy in search of scattered reapers. I know some tricks. Trust me. I will return in a short while."

"You'd better." Ron got up and shuffled over to the window, "Like it or not, we only have each other right now."

"Why Mister Knox, I would never have dreamt you would be concerned for my safe return, our current predicament, notwithstanding." Will teased as he opened the door.

"Better being stuck with you than being alone while our realm falls to shit." the blond shrugged.

William stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. Before heading to the staircase, he stood outside their room in the hallway and spoke under his breath. "I agree, Mister Knox. I agree."

* * *

William moved briskly down the pavement, weaving between the hordes of pedestrians. His head remained down, but he was constantly searching the streets for other reapers from the corners of his eyes. None seemed to be about this part of town, but as he drew near to Hyde Park, a pair of young reapers stood at the main entrance. Again, they had what appeared to be photographs in their hands and were stopping each person who dared to enter the lavish greens.

Deciding it was far too dangerous to get past them and enter there, Will turned and headed along the length of the park. He sought a place where he could enter secretly and undetected. After walking nearly half the length of the park, he found a spot where he could slip in and no one would see him doing so. The crowds were thicker and much louder. The traffic was at a high level of activity and no one paid any attention when William separated from the crowds and using his scythe, snipped one of the bars free of the iron rail fence.

Once inside, he headed in the direction of the Serpentine River. He would be in the heart of the park and just a hop over to Kensington Gardens. The park was packed as usual, but he noticed a patch of trees vacant of any mortals and pulled out his cell. He was careful and discreet, not wanting to attract a wondering mortal.

He quickly dialed Stirling Donaldson first. The number had been disconnected. Will looked around, hearing the voices of two young ladies approaching. He nodded and smiled as the passed. When they were no longer a threat, he flipped the phone back open and dialed Alan Humphries. He was hopeful when it began to ring, but then silence. No answer, no signal, no voicemail. Will stared down at the phone in dismay. He swallowed hard and looked up. Reapers.

He tucked his phone away and turned on his heel. Keeping his head low, he buried his hands in his pockets and headed for the bridge.

"This may have been a bad idea. I do hope you are staying put, Mister Knox. They are like vultures searching for the dead." Will muttered as he changed direction, heading into the lavish gardens of Kensington Gardens.

* * *

Alexander Jeffries was holed up in a backwater motel much like the one Alan had initially fled to when his phone rang. Unlike his fellow associates on the run, he'd managed to debug his work phone so that Dispatch couldn't use it to track him. He jerked in his seat and nearly knocked his laptop off the table, startled by the sound. Blinking warily at the communication device on the bed, he tugged his shoulder-length auburn hair out of the ponytail binder to relieve the headache he was getting, and he combed his long bangs out of his eyes as he approached the phone.

"Now who's this?" he muttered, prepared to let it redirect to the "dummy line" he'd set up in the network with his old voicemail on it.

William T. Spears came up in the ID. Jeffries' eyes widened. He started to answer it immediately, but he paused. "Not so fast," he scolded himself. Last he'd heard, Spears was still missing…presumed dead, along with Ronald Knox. He couldn't be sure if this was William calling him or not.

He quickly thought up a means to test that and he answered the phone, sitting down on the bed. His knee was bouncing a mile a minute as he spoke into it—and he didn't bother with a greeting. "Answer fast: What song were you singing when I found you smashed in the alley?"

"Oh, honestly! Must I answer that bloody question? I don't have time for this," William sighed as he rolled his eyes and ducked under a low hanging tree on the outer rim of the gardens.

He was grateful to hear a familiar voice on the other end of the phone, but this was no time to be messing about. At any moment, he would be found out. He needed to get back to the hotel and the young reaper awaiting his return.

"Well, you _sound_ genuine, but I need that answer anyway." Alex got up and started pacing. "Name that tune or I hang up."

"Forty Fathoms Deep." Will whispered, barely audible. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

On the other line, Alexander breathed a sigh of relief and plopped back down on the bed. "So you're still alive. B-but wait a minute…are you calling me from your work phone, boss?"

"It is all I have at the moment. Dispatch can track it, but they cannot listen in. Hence why I am running around in he middle Hyde Park. I don't have much time. I have Knox, and we need to meet up with you. We only have one more night in our hotel. I can't reach Humphries or Donaldson, either."

"Shhh!" Alex lunged for the little table in his room and he pinched up some salt he'd poured from the packet that came with the greasy hotdog he'd bought for his dinner, for lack of any other options. He tossed some of it over his shoulder and made a warding gesture—though his former superior could not see it.

"Don't tell me where you are! Don't tell me where you're staying, either! Get the hell out of the park right now and lay low. Meet me at the alley you sang in tomorrow, after nightfall, and we'll go from there, okay? Don't use that phone again to call any other agency numbers 'till we meet up. They've got bigger ears than you think, dig it?"

"Understood. I will be there and don't you dare request that I sing that song in front of Knox, either. I have got to go. Until then." Will replied as he flipped the phone closed and hurried to one of the gates.

Alexander sighed and quickly set the latest call to divert to the dummy line. "Wow, I thought he was smarter than that…"

But then, chances were Spears didn't get the opportunity to find out as much as he had before he had to split. He shook his head and grabbed the watermelon-flavored sucker he'd bought at the petrol station, sitting on the nightstand. He unwrapped it and stuck it into his mouth, before getting started on packing up what little he'd managed to grab before beating feet out of town.

* * *

Ronald lay in bed next to William, watching the man's slumbering face as he let the minutes tick by, wanting to be sure the man was asleep before finally he made his move. He slipped out of bed and tip-toed over to the closet where William had his suit hanging. He checked the pockets, finally finding the man's phone. He then grabbed his pants and slipped them on, holding the mobile phone between his teeth as he buttoned them up. Then he proceeded to sneak out of the hotel room, closing the door behind him, and propping it open with a rolled sock so that he could get back in without too much noise.

The blond sat down on the stairs between floors where his voice wouldn't bother any of the sleeping guests. Hoping that no human would come out in the middle of the night for any reason, he flipped open the phone and punched in the number Eric had given him, still written on his arm under the sleeve of the shirt he'd warn to bed after the previous morning's complaint about his nudity while sleeping.

Taking a deep breath and hoping he wasn't making a foolish mistake, Ron pressed the send button and waited for an answer.

Alan jumped when his phone started to ring, and he fumbled to find it amongst the blankets in the back seat of his car. He'd grown tired of driving and hadn't found a new hotel, so he chose to sleep in his car off the side of the road. Finding it, he flipped it open and held it to his ear without looking at the incoming number.

"Eric? What are you doing? It's three in the morning…did something happen to you? Should I go back to get you?" He asked, slightly panicked.

"Whaa? No, it's me, Ronald."

Alan blinked as Ronald's voice sank in. "Oh…sorry…I thought only Eric knew this number."

"No, he ran into me earlier today. Gave me your number. Are you okay?"

Alan lay back down, resting his head against his pillow, "I have no idea. Everything's been so confusing. Eric told me to run and find you and Spears, but…I had no idea where to look."

"We aren't in the realm anymore if that's where you are looking."

"I…have not left yet." Alan admitted, "I'm driving to a hopefully more secure location to leave the Realm through a portal."

"How soon can you get through? I'll meet ya!"

"…How do I even know you are you, Ronald?" Alan groaned, rolling onto his side and rubbing his eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be me?" Ron frowned.

"I don't know…you could have been captured."

"I'd still be me, Senpai!" Ronald insisted, "But fine…Uh…I dunno…do you remember the time I got super drunk and forgot my way home and showed up on your doorstep? You made me strawberry pancakes the next morning."

Alan nodded, hoping that Ronald was smart enough to have made a mistake in his story had he been captured. But it was all true, so maybe it was safe.

"I…if I abandon my car here, I can use my scythe to get to London now. Where should we meet? Not near where you are staying—just in case."

"Uhh…Will said the park is crawling with reapers, so maybe we should not go there. How about we meet outside that little café place you like? The mortal one, I mean, not the one in our realm."

"Be careful—and stay out of sight until I get there. I need to pack up a few things out of my car first."

"Right! I'll be waiting!" Ronald said before hanging up and, forgetting to let William know, he rushed down to make his way to the café a good ten blocks away from the hotel.

* * *

Undertaker was still awake, finding himself unable to rest before the dark hours of the morning, as usual. He was just about to pour himself a cup of soothing chamomile tea when he heard tapping at his barred kitchen window. He walked over to it and he pulled aside the curtain to find one of his raven friends perched on the sill outside, pecking at the glass. He unlocked the window and opened it, letting in the night air and allowing the bird to hop through the bars onto his wrist.

"So, what's going on, my feathered friend?" he questioned, shaking his hair back to look the animal in the beady eye. The raven began to squawk and call, speaking a language that he understood better than anyone save their own kind, or the demons formed of their spiritual essence.

"My, how interesting. How many?"

He listened, and he scratched his chin with his free hand. "They're after someone. Might this have anything to do with the reports I've been getting from elsewhere? I wonder."

He considered the bird, and he carried him over to the bowl of berries he kept, just for them. "Well done. Help yourself and let yourself out when you've finished."

He grinned, curious and intrigued. "It seems the sun might not rise without a bit of fun, after all."

He needed a distraction from his thoughts concerning a certain redhead, the proposal he'd given him and the feel of those delectable lips against his own. He left his living quarters and went through the door to his shop, snatching up his hat on the way out. Locking up behind him, he reached out with his senses and he sniffed out the presence of death like a wolf seeking out its own kind. He looked up at the overcast skies and his white smile grew even wider.

"I wonder who they're after," he whispered. "So intriguing."

Something had drastically changed within Dispatch, and he wanted to discover what exactly it was…and why some of their agents had been using firearms when they came to trouble him before Grell showed up.

* * *

Dry mouthed and thirsty, Will slowly stirred from his sleep. He yawned and sat up, stretched his arms and reached over to the nightstand where his eyeglasses lay. He removed them from the white painted and chipped wood. The moon was hanging high in the sky, illuminating Ronald's bundled up form and his little hotel room. He slipped his glasses on and threw back the covers. Stumbling out of their bed, he headed straight for the privy.

Once inside, he closed the door and filled the cup he had left on the counter with the water pump. The water was cold and refreshing. It felt soothing to his parched lips and tongue. He guzzled the entire glass in one breath. Huffing, he leaned heavily on the counter, his head hanging as he took a couple of deep breaths to regain his composure. There was a tiny little window in the private bathroom behind him. The moon's light reflected of the mirror on the wall. The light made the tiny space glow ethereally.

"What is this mess we have been thrown into? What is it you want? Why are you after us? What threat am I to you?" He whispered to himself as his mind raced with questions.

Sighing, the former manager turned and took a moment to relieve himself before returning to bed. A few moments later, he exited the tiny room and marched straight back to the comforting covers of his and Ronald's shared bed. But as he sat down, he realized the blond was no longer in it.

"Ronald?" He breathed as he touched the spot where the blond had been sleeping earlier. "Damn it, Ronald! Where in the blazes of Hell have you gone to?"

* * *

"Well now, where are you blokes going?" wondered the mortician softly to himself as he bounded lightly over rooftops, keeping an eye on the Dispatch agents ahead of him. He could mask himself from them to a point, but it wouldn't be a good idea to get too close and test his range. They were sharp folk after all, and he didn't trust a one of them further than he could toss them.

He kept pace with them, and he circled around when he saw them moving in on one of the hotels of the mortal city. He hunkered down with a grin, and one of his feathered friends came flapping toward him. The raven landed on the roof beside him and he bent his silver head toward it, listening to its mournful chatter and nodding his head.

"Ahhh, so they've cornered a fugitive, have they? My, my…I wonder."

He saw a couple of agents heading his way across the rooftops, and he shooed the bird away and hopped to another rooftop, moving around back of the building. As he suspected, they had agents moving this way too…but he knew this town better than any Dispatch agent, by now.

"This ought to prove entertaining," he whispered to himself.

* * *

Upon discovering the blond missing from their room, Will had quickly donned his clothing and searched the hotel. Ronald was nowhere to be seen. He had rushed back to their room and packed all that he could, into the travel bags they had procured the previous day. His gut said their whereabouts had been compromised, and he was terribly worried that either Ronald had been captured, or was dead. No matter what, Will knew he had to get out of there…and fast.

Fastening the last buckles on Ronald's bags, Will paused and looked at the door to their room. He could hear footfalls shuffling down the hallway and the quiet murmur of voices.

_~Reapers. They know we are here. Damn it, Ronald, what did you do?!~_

Realizing there was no escape out the main entrance, Will went to the window and peered out. He could see no one below. The second floor was not to far up. For a reaper, the drop was nothing. As quietly as possible, he threw open the pane of glass and looked straight down. There was a wagon with straw in it—most likely to feed the horses that stayed in the hotel stables. He grabbed his bag and tossed it down into the wagon. It made no sound as it hit the dried straw. Next he tossed Ronald's bag, and then the box of provisions they had scoured for and collected.

The footsteps were drawing nearer. He heard the agents creak open the door to the room next to theirs. Turning to the open window, he jumped. He landed softly on the ground, on his feet and fetched the two bags out of the cart. He tossed his over his right shoulder and Ronald's over his left. He'd just retrieved the box from the wagon and ducked around a corner into a dark alley, when one agent stuck his head out of the window.

"Damn! They've escaped!" He exclaimed turning to his partner.

"Did you see them?"

"No. I can't say when they left. But I am sure it was not long ago. The bed covers are rumpled and boss says it was only an hour ago when the call ended. Tell the others to head to the surrounding streets and spread out from the hotel," The agent ordered as he slammed his fist down on the windowsill.

"We will get you Spears." He promised through gritted teeth. "You can't run forever."

* * *

Undertaker saw Agent Spears drop to the ground, followed by one of the agents he'd trailed poking his head out the window and exclaiming in frustration to his companion. Having taken note of the direction William went, the mortician traversed the rooftops in that direction, moving swift as death itself until he found him rounding a corner, looking around for a convenient place to go.

He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to do it beyond curiosity, but he dropped down a few feet away from the Dispatch supervisor. "Psst," he announced, quite prepared for the man to try and skewer him with that pole of his.

Will skidded to a stop. He squinted trying to make out the figure ahead of him. The voice was familiar, so was the silhouette.

"Undertaker?"

The mortician stepped out of the shadows a bit and he beckoned the younger reaper with a pale finger. "Looks like you're in a spot of trouble, lad. I'm prepared t' make a deal with you, in exchange for safe haven. I can get you out of here quickly, before your playmates can find you." He grinned. "What do you say?"

Hearing approaching agents, Will nodded. "Can I trust that you aren't working for them? That going with you won't lead to my capture?"

That made the ancient cackle softly with amusement. "Dear boy, they've been trying t' recruit me for months already. You ought to know better. I've no interest in returnin' to the bosom of Dispatch…compromised or not."

And he dearly wanted to hear this man's account of what in bollocks had been going on with London Dispatch. He wondered if he was aware that Sutcliff appeared to be working with those who were now hunting him down, too.

"No time to waste," urged the Undertaker.

"Fine. Here take this. It's heavy. Now, please, may we be on our way?" Will said handing over the box to the Undertaker.

He didn't know if he could trust the retired reaper, but his current circumstances left him with little choice—and the man was right; there was no time to chitchat. He was a hot commodity and he needed someplace to hide, gather his thoughts and find Ronald. Handing over his fate to the eccentric ancient, Will followed the Undertaker's lead.

The mortician obligingly took the box in one hand, and he created a portal with the other. It required more concentration than the average portal and it would lead directly to his shop—un-traceable by anyone that did not have an intimate understanding of the unique way he wove the planar energies to create it. He ushered William through first, and then he followed behind. The portal closed behind them, leaving no trace of himself, but stopping William's pursuit cold once they tracked his aura signature to that spot.

* * *

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you." Will said as he stepped into the shop of the Undertaker. Exhausted from his quick and frantic escape, he dropped the bags onto the old wooden floorboards. He took a deep breath and turned to the ancient reaper. "Unfortunately, I need to locate Mister Knox. He was missing when I awoke. He may return to the hotel, only to be taken into custody."

"Hmm." Undertaker eyed the two bags thoughtfully, before setting the box he'd been given onto his desk. "So the impulsive greenie is in trouble too, eh? Who else, Mr. Spears? Who else have they turned on, and why…if you even know?"

Will shook his head as he looked down and adjusted his glasses. "I honestly can't say. I happened upon something in the Dispatch main frame. Mister Knox was an unfortunate victim of Happenstance. As for others not involved, we are currently trying to get in contact with those whom we trust. I am afraid Stirling Donaldson has been taken care of. I fear the same for Mister Alan Humphries. We do not know for sure who is and is not involved. Nor do I know where Mister Knox has gotten off to."

"Goodness," muttered the Undertaker, suddenly troubled. He didn't much care what happened to the majority of Dispatch, but there were a few notable exceptions. Perhaps the things he'd gotten wind of so far were spreading further than he'd initially thought. "Haven't the two of you—your little blond friend, that is—formed a link to keep up with each other, then? You could use that t' track one another down in times of trouble."

"A link?" Will looked up puzzled.

Undertaker nearly gaped at him, but then he remembered how things had changed since his day and why that very thing had been part of the reason he'd left. "So they don't even teach younger generations _that_ much, now? It's no wonder the place is going to pot. The shortest explanation I can offer, Mr. Spears, is that two partnered reapers form a sort of spiritual link to better keep up with one another while out doing their assignments. It allows them to track each other and sense when one another is in danger. Some reapers take it further than that when they marry, but the basic link serves a much more practical purpose to our kind than romantic enhancement."

He considered the problem. "I'd have thought if the two of you were on the run together, you'd have thought to do that by now…but they obviously never saw fit to teach you. Pity. Seems we'll have to wing it. What do you know about Mr. Knox, hmm? Where can you think of that he might go at this hour, without telling you?"

"Regrettably, we are not aware of such abilities. And as for your other question, Mister Knox and I are not close. I can never understand his impetuousness. He rarely thinks things through. However, in the past two days he has proven he can use that head of his." Will knelt down and began to go through his bag. He began to frantically search, dumping things all over the floor. He reached over and grabbed Ronald's bag. "Damn it!"

Undertaker tilted his head, grinning in spite of himself at the normally stoic reaper's outburst. "Something amiss, chap?"

"My cell, it's gone. I am sure I did not leave it in my room. It had been in my coat pocket and I stuffed that in my bag." He looked up at the Undertaker. His eyes grew round and then narrowed. "Knox!"

"Knox took your cells?" Undertaker was a bit puzzled by that, not understanding the jargon. "Funny, he doesn't seem particularly scientific to me. The rest of what you just said makes no bloody sense 't all to me. You've got a plethora of cells, my lad, and to stuff a single one in your pocket would require finesse and a microscope _much_ more powerful than anything I've ever seen."

William rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Cell is short for cellular phone. It is a device on which we now communicate to keep in touch and communicate with one another. It is a scientific advancement on the mortal telephone. I one day believe they will discover the technology."

"Oh." Undertaker recalled the speaking devices he'd seen Dispatch agents use, and he smiled. "_Oh! Those_ talky things! Ahh, I wasn't sure what you call 'em. But why would Mr. Knox steal yours, then? Mayhap to turn you in? You _did_ say he was gone when you awoke, and those agents came for you shortly afterwards, yeah?"

"I highly doubt that. He would be foolish to try. They would kill him as soon as they laid hands on him." Will explained as he began rummaging once more through Ronald's bag. "They will assume he saw what I saw, since he was in my office at the time of my discovery and was nearly killed along with me. If he were so foolish to do so, the first opportun—"

Will froze, his mouth falling open as he opened Ronald's toiletry bag.

Undertaker leaned over him curiously, peering over his shoulder. The objects he saw made more sense to him than cellular phones, and he chuckled. "Condoms, eh? And just what were you planning to do with your li'l blond friend, Willy?"

Shocked and appalled at once, Will turned bright red. He slung the little bag back into the Ronald's main travel bag and stuttered. "Plan-planning…? Ronald and I…no. We just slept together. I mean in our hotel room. No, I mean we had to share a room we didn't….I mean we did, but it was not like that."

Tickled, the mortician muffled laughter behind a long sleeve before replying. "So you've slept together…in the hotel room…but it wasn't like that. Well, I might be an old fart, but I'm still up t' date enough to know that if two reapers are carrying around something like that…well, they don't plan to do much sleeping."

He nudged him with an elbow, still bent over his shoulder. "Get it?"

Will bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The room had grown quite hot all of the sudden and he was feeling light-headed. "I do believe I am going to pass out, now." He stated as he started to sway.

Undertaker's nose scrunched up. He'd known ladies to pull that trick, but never the gents. "You can't be serious…can you? It's only—oh, bugger!"

He caught the brunet as he teetered, easing him to the floor before he could clunk his noggin on it. "My, my…the mere thought of relations with that boy is enough t' get you bothered enough to swoon, eh? Or was it my suggestion that he might have betrayed you?"

The ancient felt a stirring of…pity? He frowned briefly. He'd once cared for the youth of his kind…liked to take them on outings once in a while, bring them treats. Some part of him must still harbor that. He despised Dispatch, but he didn't particularly hold animosity towards any of the agents. They were all just following directives; like lambs to the slaughter.

"What's say we put you to rest for a bit," he offered to the unconscious brunet in his arms, and he lifted him and carried him to the door leading into his residency. "Could by my feathered friends can find your wayward heartthrob for us, yeah?"

* * *

Ronald sighed, hiding in the alley behind some crates as he waited for Alan, shivering slightly at the chill of the late August night. A cover of clouds had settled over London and a few cold raindrops started to fall, peppering the cobblestone with dots of moisture—and leaving Ronald hoping that Alan would hurry before he got drenched. But he knew it was tricky. Alan was going to form his own portal to Mortal London, and doing so took a lot of energy. More so if Alan was going to make it untraceable, which he could or could not know how to do. It was an advanced portal technique, after all.

Finally, a portal opened and a figure carrying a few bags stepped through, the portal closing behind him. "Ron?"

"Alan-senpai!" Ronald hurried out to greet Alan, "Boy, I'm glad to see you!"

"We need to move—quickly. There is a chance that some reapers may be close by and sensed the portal open here." Alan said, handing Ron one of the bags he carried.

"Right. This way. Spears and I have a hotel room. Follow me."

The younger reaper lead the brunet back towards the hotel, the two taking care to keep out of sight of both reapers and humans—just in case. But as they grew closer to the hotel, they were slowed by more and more reaper agents combing the area, searching.

"Where did they go?" One reaper snarled, annoyed by the situation, "They can't just vanish!"

"Well their hotel room is deserted." Another answered, "But at least we can confirm that Spears and whoever that other one was are still at large. They aren't dead. We can at least report that."

"Yeah, I'd consider that to be bad news, Whalen. The boss'll have our heads."

The reapers disappeared around the corner and Ron let out the breath he'd been holding, "Shit, they found our hotel." He cursed.

"Sounds like Spears escaped, though." Alan nodded, "So that's good. We'd only need to find him."

"Yeah, but how the Hell are we supposed to do that? Spears didn't even know I left to get you!"

Alan turned a glare at Ron, "That was incredibly stupid of you, Ronald."

"He was sleeping! I didn't want to bother him. Besides, I only had your number because of Eric, and Spears doesn't think Eric can be trusted so he'd get angry if he knew I talked to him!"

"Are you five?" Alan scolded, and then he sighed and leaned back against the wall to think, "We need a secure place to stay until we figure out what to do. I…guess we could try Legendary Death."

"What, the old kooky undertaker guy?" Ron frowned, "Can we trust him?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but he isn't part of Dispatch, so there is a chance he has nothing to do with this…take over or whatever it is. Eric told me a little about it, but not everything."

Ronald sighed and nodded, "But if he _is_ working with them, good luck getting away. The geezer is in a league of his own."

"It's worth a try," Alan shrugged, picking back up his bags that he hadn't entrusted to Ronald and nodding, "Lets go."

* * *

Undertaker stood on the roof of his shop, speaking with two of his ravens. He was giving them a mental image of the reaper he wanted them to search for, preparing to send them off to convey his wishes to their fellows and begin scouring the city. It therefore came as a surprise to him when he heard someone rapping hastily on his door below, and when he peeked over the edge of the roof he found none other than Ronald Knox waiting there—along with Alan Humphries.

"My, my," whispered the ancient with a grin. "How very opportune!"

Without a moment's hesitation, he jumped off the roof and landed right in front of them. "Hi, hi."

Ronald jumped, stumbling back, "D-don't do that so suddenly!" he scowled.

Alan, however, didn't seem too surprised, "We are sorry for interrupting you, sir." He bowed his head respectfully, "But we find ourselves in a bit of trouble. Ronald's lost William Spears and there are people pursuing him that mean him harm."

"I didn't loose him!" Ron huffed, "I knew exactly where I left him."

Tickled at the coincidence, Undertaker gestured toward his shop door. "Why don't you lads come in, before we discuss this? Seems I'm running a 'lost and found' on the side." He chuckled and opened the door, stepping aside for the two agents. "Well? Are you going to come in, or would you rather wait for the next Dispatch patrol to come by and spot you?"

"Well…" Ron said, looking back over his shoulder.

"Ron, I doubt he's working with them." Alan encouraged, pushing Ron in through the door.

"No," said the mortician with a white Cheshire grin. He closed and locked the door. "They're working for _me._"

At the alarmed expressions on their young faces, he couldn't keep a straight face. He snickered and flapped a sleeve. "Kidding, chaps…I'm only funning with you. Of _course_ I don't work for or with those pretentious gudgeons, and I've got no plans t' change that. Now, on the matter of your missing associate…funny thing, that. He ran into a spot of trouble at a hotel and came home with me to avoid Shinigami authorities. Isn't that lovely? He was looking for you, too. He had no idea Mr. Humphries was with you, apparently."

He looked at Alan. "So, they came after you as well, did they?"

"Kinda." Ron set down the bags he was carrying and rubbed the back of his head, "They are surrounding the hotel and we couldn't get close. They're looking for the boss. We figured he got away and Alan-senpai suggested we try coming here."

"Spears didn't know Ronald was going to meet with me." Alan said, also setting down his bags, "This mess could have been avoided. But I'm glad to hear that Mister Spears is safe."

"Hmm. I would love to know exactly what's going on with Dispatch. It seems to be spread out everywhere, in fact," mused the ancient. "Well, you blokes can't go out there again right now, and your supervisor—well, _former_ supervisor—is laid up in th' back. Seems he got a case of the vapors when he found some toys in your bag."

He looked at Ronald with a mischievous gin.

"What are you talking about?" Ronald frowned, "What toys? I barely have anything with me. We had to run so quickly."

"Why the cock sheaths, of course," obliged Undertaker shamelessly. "He found a roll of 'em. Poor fellow got so flustered that he passed right out."

"What do you mean cock—oh—_oh_. Those. I forgot those were in my pocket." Ron chuckled and hopped up onto a coffin, sitting on it's lid, "Grell-senpai gave them to me as a gag gift when he found out I had plans to go to a big party."

The Undertaker huffed a laugh, but it brought his mind back to the redhead and he sobered a bit, recalling his offer and the bit of flirtation they'd exchanged during his visit. He looked at Ronald with a sigh. "You know he's on their side, don't you? He came to me just recently with an offer from Dispatch. I turned it down like always, but they're doing their best to snatch up as much power as they can. Couldn't say what they gave him in exchange for it, but you ought to be careful, when it comes to him."

Ron looked down, "William-senpai said we shouldn't trust him…I just…Grell's _my_ senpai, you know? He trained me and everything…he's like a brother—sister—depends on his mood. It sucks having to…not trust him anymore…"

"Mm, life can be more than a bit unfair," agreed the mortician, "and it could be your mentor has good reason for falling in with their crowd. Until y' know what that reason is and know he won't give you away to his new associates, best t' play it cautious, though. Now, let's go check on the puritan and see if he's come too yet, eh? I'm sure he'll be relieved to see you both—even if he shows all the expression of a glacier."

"He'll be angry at me. That's the only emotion he knows. And we'll see a lot of it."

"And you'll deserve it." Alan patted his shoulder, "You should have been a little smarter about it. You should have let him know you were going to call me."

"Yeah, doesn't mean I have to like it, though. No one yells like he does. Sucks."

Undertaker shrugged. "He might, but right now, the three of you have bigger matters to worry about than your little 'oops'. Follow me to my living space, lads. We've got a lot to discuss."

When they made it into his master bedroom, the mortician stood over William's resting form pensively for a moment. Finally shrugging at his other guests, he poked the raven-haired Shinigami.

"Rise and shine, Mr. Spears. I've someone with me that wants t' see you. _Two_ someone's, in fact. Seems I've picked up a bonus stray this evening."

"Back to your own side, Mister Knox." Will grumbled, still asleep as he felt the mortician's nail pierce him.

"Geeze, wake up hugging the guy like a pillow one time and he never forgives you." Ronald smirked and walked over to the bed and bent over to whisper in his ear, "At least I'm not naked this time, Senpai."

"Mister…Knox, please-not poke…me further. 'tay on yer own side." Will hugged his pillow closer.

"Maybe we need to try something different." Ron said, sitting up, "Who wants to kiss the sleeping ice-king?"

"Seems he wants _you_ to kiss him, chap," suggested Undertaker with a smirk, "considering how flustered he got when he found your goodies. Of course, Mr. Humphries is a comely fellow too. Care t' do the honors, Alan?"

Alan held up his hands, "That is rather inappropriate, and possibly unappreciated." he said, shaking his head. Besides, if he were to try such a thing, it'd be with Eric, not William.

"It was a Joke, Al." Ron laughed, grabbing the pillow and yanking it out from under William's head and then smacking it over Will's face, "Senpai! Up! My turn to be the hard-ass about it."

"Ahh…" William winced as his head smacked against the firm mattress. His eyes squeezed shut from the abrupt movement and impact of his head colliding with the mattress. "What? Mister Knox?"

He blinked a few times. The blond's yellow blur first appeared over his head, followed by silver and brown.

"Who goes there? Undertaker?"

He squinted, trying to figure out who was hovering above him. He was confused, and then he remembered the Undertaker had found him, but he could not place the brown blur. Now wondering if the yellow blur was indeed Ronald, Will scrambled from under the blanket and pressed his body against the headboard. "Where am I? My glasses! Where are my glasses? I cannot see."

"Calm down lad," chuckled the mortician. He plucked Williams glasses up from the bedside table where he'd left them, and he handed them over to him. "Here are your peepers. Didn't think it'd be too smart to leave you sleeping in 'em, is all."

"Well, that worked." Ron grinned, "You look like a little girl afraid of the boogeyman, Senpai!"

William took the glasses from the Undertaker's hands and slipped them onto his face.

"Thank you." He nodded and looked at the other two reapers staring back down at him. Sighing in relief, Will sat up straight and acknowledged the other two. "Mister Knox. Mister Humphries. I am not sure what has happened here or how you two came about this place. Could someone please explain what has happened? I would also like to know how I ended up in this bed."

"You passed out after we flipped you out of the frying pan," said Undertaker with a shrug, "So I put you t' bed. I'll leave the three of you t' talk while I make us some tea."

He left them alone then, putting off his own questions until they could get their heads sorted out a bit.

"Yeah…why?" Ron frowned, pulling out the phone, "Still have it—I didn't loose it or anything."

Will took a deep breath and released it.

"Do you not remember what I said about using it in the hotel? Honestly, did it not occur to you that is why the place was crawling with reapers, upon your return? I barely escaped with _our_ belongings. If not for the Undertaker…never mind. Mister Humphries, I am glad to see you are alive and well."

"I was trying to help!" Ronald insisted, "I was careful!"

"'_Careful_', Mister Knox?" William snapped as he climbed from the bed.

Righteously pissed, he rounded on the youth. "Using that phone, in that hotel, drew the hounds to the foxes' den. It was careless and thoughtless. You put us in grave danger. You should have told me you had a way to contact Mister Humphries…the moment I returned and explained I was unable to reach him. I had no idea where you had gotten off to. If you were caught, dead or what have you."

"I didn't know! What, is the phone bugged or something? Then why even keep it? Why didn't you throw it out? I didn't even know if the number would get a hold of Alan." Ron snapped back.

"Mister Knox, do you never pay attention to what I tell you? I made it clear that our phones are traceable—a fail-safe in emergencies. Hence why I said I was going to the park to make calls. I was not about to lead the hounds to our whereabouts. For the sake of the dead, Ronald, start paying attention." Will scolded as he adjusted his glasses and turned to the brunet.

"Mister Humphries, I must inquire…Mister Slingby, have you spoken with him recently?"

"I-!" Alan felt his cheeks heat, yet he cast his gaze downwards, "Yes…I have…"

"And, Mister Humphries? Can he be trusted?" Will prodded, both of his brows raising in question.

"I…don't know, to be honest." Alan admitted, biting his lip, "He…is with them, but…he's the one that got me out."

Surprised by what the brunet just admitted, Will grabbed him by the shoulders. "He is working with them, yet helped you? Tell me honestly; do you trust him? It is very important. Will he be in contact with you?"

"He said…he joined them." Alan nodded, "Grell, too. He told me only to trust you and Ronald. That the two of you escaped. They want me, too, but he didn't want them getting to me and—I just don't know. I asked him to run with me, but…I think…he's chasing another fairy tale."

He sighed. "They promised him a cure for me." He had no reason to refuse the more basic information, and he would be truthful about it, he decided.

"A cure?" Will repeated stepping back and turning from the brunet. "Did he say why Grell joined? Or what they are planning on doing? Do you have any idea why they want you?"

Alan shook his head, "It was hard enough to get him to tell me this much." He looked down and clenched his fists, "I wish he'd have come with me."

Will turned back around and softened his tone. "I am sure he has his reasons. However, if he is willing to hide you, and he is doing all of this for a cure, I am sure he is not completely committed to them. There maybe a chance to sway him to help us. Do you have a way to contact him?"

"I do…kind of…We both got new phones so that we can't be tracked on them when we speak, but he doesn't always answer his or have it on."

Sighing, Will nodded, "Good, that is at least something. I shall be meeting with Mister Jeffries, Whom was the only reaper I could trust and get through to. He plans to remove the tracer from my phone, so as it can be used without our whereabouts being tracked."

"You didn't tell me you got in touch with him." Ron spoke up after pouting in silence for being scolded. "I would have waited to call Alan's new number until then!"

"I did." Will replied. "I mentioned that…I take that back. I am rather afraid it slipped my mind. Huh, I apologize, Mister Knox. I meant to inform you that Jeffries was with us; out of Dispatch."

Still pouting slightly, the blond smacked the back of Will's head and shoulder with the pillow in his hands, "So it's partially your fault for this mess! Not all mine!"

"I beg your pardon, Mister Knox? My fault? You did not even offer to share with me that you had a way to contact…Now you hold on there, how were you able to contact Mister Humphries in the first place? He has a new phone. He just admitted that. Explain yourself, Mister Knox. Just how in the Hell did you gain access to that number?" Will rounded on the blond as he realized that Ronald had a new number for Alan, and that he had withheld that information from him.

"Well…Eric gave it to me," Ron mumbled, "but if you'd told me about Jeffries, I would have waited and then we'd still be in the hotel!"

"_Excuse_ me!" Will narrowed his eyes on the blond. "Eric gave you the number? And just when were you planning on telling me this? When did he give it you? And no more lies or secrets, Mister Knox. I want to know everything, right now."

"Today—or, yesterday, I guess…" Ronald shrugged, opting not to point out how red the man's face seemed to be getting.

Ready to explode and in desperate need to get away from the blond, Will walked to the door and opened it, only to jump back, surprised as a heap of Silver and black fell at his feet.

"What the bloody Hell were you doing? Listening through the damn door?" He shouted as she glowered at the retired reaper.

Undertaker picked himself up from the floor, chuckling. "Seems a bit obvious, doesn't it? I was listening in." He straightened to his full height and he tapped a long, black nail against his grinning white teeth.

"Careful now Spears…I'm currently the only buffer between you and your enemies."

"Told you he'd be mad at me." Ron sighed, looking at Alan, who shrugged.

"You should have told him the truth right away."

Will's eyebrow began to twitch violently. He was a volcano about to erupt. He could feel the heat boiling beneath his collar. If he didn't get out of that room, there would be Hell to pay.

"Gentlemen, I must excuse myself. Undertaker, kindly please step out of my way?" He said, tugging on his waistcoat.

"Mister Spears, you shouldn't go outside alone." Alan said, standing up, "It's dangerous."

"I do not plan on retreating to the outdoors, Mister Humphries." Will snapped back as he shoved past the Undertaker and stormed down the hall. He headed straight to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Alan blinked, taken aback. He had been ready to suggest he go with William to try and help the man calm down about Ronald's actions, but he hadn't expected to be snapped at himself. "Oh…"

"Well, my goodness, that was rude," huffed Undertaker. Without a word or a thought, he yanked open the bathroom door and grabbed William by the collar. "Come 'ere, nugget."

He suddenly pulled the supervisor out of the bathroom like a puppy by the scruff of its neck, and he practically tossed him onto the bed, nearly bowling over Ronald and Alan in the process. He grinned down at the sputtering brunet in a less than friendly manner, and he spoke in a low voice.

"Never run me over in my own home, boy. You can have your little fits with your friends, but you're a guest here, and you're fortunate I don't toss y' out on your rear for little spit of rudeness you just displayed."

William looked up, shocked, his lips parted and dry. He had never thought he would ever be removed so violently from someplace and then tossed onto a bed by the Undertaker. The former reaper was quite frankly vehement with him, and so there he sat on the Undertaker's guest bed, trembling.

"My deepest apologies, Undertaker. I meant no disrespect to you or your hospitality." He apologized, bowing his head. "Please forgive me?"

The ancient nodded, accepting the apology. "That's better. Now work things out with your companions whilst I get the tea poured. I think we should all talk about this, because I have news to impart to you as well. Come into the parlor and have some tea and a sit-down with me, when you've sussed out your personal issues."

Ronald was biting his lip hard, holding himself back from making a wise-crack about the retired reaper man-handling William. As tempting as it was, he knew it wouldn't help things get better.

Alan frowned and gently touched William's shoulder, "Sir? Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, you look like you thought you saw Grell-senpai do his work early!" Ronald chuckled, slapping a hand over his mouth when Alan shot him a warning look.

William looked up at the blond and growled. "Shut it, Mister Knox. I should hate for us to be thrown out the front door, due to your insolence, provoking my temper. I do not have the patience to deal with your lack of professionalism right this moment. You would be wise to think before you speak, just now."

"Hey—you were the one to push the geezer." Ron pointed out, "You're over-reacting. Sure, I made a mistake, but you could have told me your plans, too."

"I did not deliberately withhold the information from you as you chose to do with me, Mister Knox." Will stood and towered over the blond. "May I also remind you that because you chose not to confide in me that you had a way to contact Mister Humphries and took it upon yourself to contact him yourself, you put our lives in danger."

"I didn't want you to be mad at me for talking to Eric! You told me not to trust him."

"Regardless, you should have told me. What if he had been setting us up and not helping us? You have both confirmed he is working with Dispatch," Will replied, sighing. His eyes closed of their own accord and he shook his head. "I will not accept anymore secrets, from either one of you."

"Hey, you're a scary guy." Ron shrugged, "I wanted to get Alan-senpai on my own to avoid the yelling."

Will opened his eyes and looked straight at the blond. "And you believe you were successful in this endeavor? I ask because it appears you have failed with this ideal."

"URRRH!" Ronald growled in frustration, reaching up and running his hands through his blond hair, "Yes, because I'm not entitled to one mistake. I know I messed up! How many times do you want me to admit I made a stupid mistake? At least I apologized and we're all safe again, so why don't you just…grow the hell up!" He marched to the door, "I'm going to go help with tea or whatever."

Will sighed and looked to Alan. "I am sorry, Mister Humphries, for snapping earlier. I am tired and a little in edge. However, that does not dismiss my behavior towards you. You were obviously unaware that Mister Knox had not disclosed certain things to me. Please, accept my apology."

"It's alright, sir." Alan reassured him, "Though you both need to take some time to calm down."

"Yes." Will nodded. "I must agree. Will you please excuse me? I need to splash some water upon my face."

Alan nodded, "Of course."

Will stepped from the room and returned to the restroom, where he proceeded to splash cold water to his face. He was exhausted from all the excitement and staying alert since his and Ronald's escape from Dispatch. His emotions were in overdrive, and the secrets and lies uncovered had him beyond his point of control. He had nearly had them all thrown out and captured. He squeezed his eyes shut and began taking deep breaths. A moment, just a moment to catch his composure. Then he would be his usual self.

* * *

While the younger reapers chatted, Undertaker prepared the tea and got on the phone with some contacts. He saw Ronald come through the door leading to his living quarters, wearing an uncommonly sour look on his young face. The mortician finished writing down the information he'd procured and he gave the blond a smile.

"I assume by that sour-puss expression things didn't go all that peachy with your frigid companion, eh?" He put the phone back on its cradle and stood up, collecting the piece of paper with his scrawling handwriting on it and folding it up.

Ronald sighed, "Yeah…I mean, I know I messed up, but the man won't even listen to my apology or anything. It seems I can never do anything right when it comes to him and that he hates me…" sighing, the usually rowdy young reaper sat down in a kitchen chair and folded his arms on the table, flopping his face forward into them, "I don't know why I even try anymore."

"If he hated you," reasoned the mortician, "he wouldn't have been so worried about finding you after escaping the hotel and comin' here. Chin up. It might seem like th' world's dropped out from under you right now, but exile does get a bit easier. Spears was already uptight before this happened, so just give him a bit of time t' sort himself out. In the meantime though, I have some information to share with you all. Why don't you serve the tea while I go and collect your companions, hmm?"

Ron sighed and nodded as he pushed himself up and walked over to the tea tray. "I know how they take their tea…but how do you?" he asked, pouring the hot beverage into the clean beakers that Undertaker had gotten out.

"Four lumps of sugar and a bit of cream," answered the Undertaker. "Set that up in the parlor, lad. I'll be in there shortly with the other strays."

He went to the back of the living space to find Alan still in his room. Spears wasn't around, though. "Don't tell me Chilly Willy decided to take off," he said with a slight frown.

Alan shook his head, "Bathroom."

"Ah, well then…come into the parlor with me. I think we all need to have a chat and you gents need to figure out what you're going to do next."

He walked back down the hall and he knocked on the bathroom door. "Mr. Spears, when you finish up in there, come and join us in the parlor. No more bickering, either. You lot can't afford to be at each other's throats right now."

Will turned his head and looked at the door. He was just drying his face off when the mortician called for him. He felt somewhat better as he replied, "I shall be out momentarily, Undertaker."

Ronald set the tea at the table in the parlor. Honey and milk in Alan's, just honey in his, a whole lot of sugar with a little cream in the Undertaker's, and cream and one lump of sugar in William's. Then he sat down and waited for the three older reapers to join him—hopefully with William's yelling voice left behind.

Placing the towel back on the rack, Will picked his glasses up from the sink counter and placed them back upon face. He looked to the mirror and sighed heavily.

"Patience. You need to have patience with the boy."

Confidence restored, William walked to the door and stepped out from his hiding place he walked down the hall and stopped in the entryway to the parlor. He took in the sight of the three reapers awaiting him, and he cleared his throat before taking a seat.

"I feel I must apologize for my behavior just now, in the bedroom. I declare that if we are to work together we must not keep secrets. We must not lie. And we must be aware of each other's boundaries. Are we in agreement?"

Undertaker looked at the younger reapers seated near him, and he made a gesture towards William. "Anytime now, chaps. Time's a-wasting and you've got plans to make. Kiss and make up…or at least come to an agreement."

"I'm fine as long as there is no yelling…particularly at me…" Ronald shrugged.

Undertaker gave the boy a glance through the fringe of his bangs. By reaper standards, Ronald was still quite young. Barely in his twenties, he imagined. It was a lot for someone of that age to take. "Nobody yells from here on out," he decided aloud. "You blokes settle all your information now, and when you're finished I've got something to share with you that might help out."

William sighed and adjusted his glasses before looking at the brunet. "And you Mister Humphries? Are you too in agreement with this?"

Alan nodded, "I believe I have told you both everything I know. But I will say something if I remember more. Most of my conversations with Eric lately was me begging him to tell me what was going on more than him telling me to run." he sipped his tea from his beaker.

"Well as I mentioned, I have been able to contact Mister Jeffries and are scheduled to meet up with him this evening," explained William. "Regrettably, I was unable to contact Mister Donaldson. Whether this means he was captured or killed remains to be seen."

Will paused and looked over at the Undertaker. Curious, he asked: "And you, Undertaker, what is your opinion or thoughts? You are offering us shelter, so may I ask where your allegiances stand? Whether you wish to be involved or not, they will see fit to drag you into these affairs."

Undertaker spread his hands and fingers. "They're free t' keep trying. I have no allegiance to either the usurpers _or_ the reapers resisting them. Still, I'm not against you gents, either."

He unfolded the piece of paper he'd written on earlier and he handed it over to William. "There's a contact for you, in Denmark. You lot need to get out of London; that's for certain. Ireland's out of the question as a sanctuary for you and so's Scotland; they've taken over the Dublin branch entirely, as well as Glasgow. Paris is in a similar state, as is Berlin. You _could_ try Portugal but from what I've gathered, they're fighting a losing battle too. Denmark is your closest and best bet right now, so you'd best see about gathering what you can and getting your carcasses there as soon as possible."

He nodded at the paper he'd handed to William. "I've an old friend in Copenhagen that can help you find sanctuary for a while. Seems that branch hasn't gone down yet, and some folk are working to secure it against this takeover. They've already taken in refugees from the branches that have fallen under control of this regime. Funny thing; these folks who've been moving in on Shinigami Dispatch society are calling themselves 'Revivalists'. Looks as though they're trying to bring in the old totalitarian system we used to run on when I was still an agent…which incidentally makes Dispatch even less appealing t' the likes of me."

William accepted the paper and unfolded it. He read it over as the Undertaker spoke and nodded looking up at the others.

"We shall stay here untill nightfall. Everyone get some rest. We will meet up with Jeffries at the appointed hour. Have everything ready for departure before we leave. We shall collect him and head straight out from there."

The only question on Will's mind was if it would be wise to port over or sneak over using mortal transportation. Both were risks. "Undertaker, give me your honest opinion. Would we be wise to traverse by ship or portal out of London?" He inquired, turning his head and looking the legendary reaper in the eye.

"Mmm, good question," mused the ancient. "If you travel by ship it's going to be slower and you lads run a deeper risk of them tracking you and boxing you up on the boat. Travel by portal and you'll be exhausted…unless you pool your energies together. It's a long distance for one reaper to make a tunnel, for certain."

He smirked. "And you could all use some special lessons before you're on your way. If you want my advice, you'll portal from here in my shop, where they won't be able to track you. Collect this friend of yours and bring him here before you go gallivanting to Denmark. You need to learn how t' form links with each other to keep track, when your fancy doohickeys can't be used or fail you."

"What do you mean, links?" Ronald frowned, looking at the retired reaper.

"It's an old technique reapers used to use." Alan explained, "There are a lot of things reapers have the power to do so, but it is no longer taught in classes."

"Then how do you know about it? You aren't all that much older than me."

"I spent a lot of extra time in the library, Ron." Alan shrugged, "I found old text books."

Undertaker nodded. "Indeed. Too bad you aren't all as studious as Mr. Humphries…but I suppose one would have to be a real bookworm to dig deep enough in the library t' know about it. Not to worry, lads. I'll teach you how to form those links before you depart London. Trust me, you'll need it."

"You believe then that it is wise to fetch Mister Jeffries and return to your shop?" Will questioned, and then he sighed. "I had nearly forgotten you mentioned something earlier about linking. I suppose if you are willing to teach us, we should invest in the ability. As you say, it may provide us with an advantage, as well as a way to keep track of one another. At this stage we cannot afford to loose contact with one another."

"Good then," said the Undertaker with a nod. "I think that'd be best in this current situation. Bear it in mind though; I'm still not taking sides. I'm just helping out a couple of lost souls like myself."

"Understood." William replied as he nodded to the ancient reaper.

"All right, how's about we take care of getting you lads fed, for now?" offered the mortician. "I've no idea when you ate last, but if any of you are hungry I've got a full pantry. Get cleaned up if you like and make use of the bed…or one of the empty coffins. Er…not the ones against the wall or my own, mind. You'll find the former two already occupied and I'm a stingy buggar about sharing my personal coffin. Three of you could probably fit in the bed together, though."

He looked at Alan and grinned. "Or maybe even all four, considering Mr. Humphries' size. He could curl up at your feet like a little brown kitten, I'll bet."

Alan's face and ears flushed red, "I'm sure we will be able to work out our sleeping accommodations without resorting to such measures, sir. I do have my pillow and a blanket from home I can use, myself. Eric packed some things for me when he got me out of dispatch."

Undertaker's grin didn't falter. He was a cute little bloke, sweet-natured and polite. It was really no wonder his partner was so determined to protect him, and he wondered what else might have happened between the two of them. He had his suspicions, considering some of Alan's reactions when Slingby's name was mentioned.

"That's fine, li'l chap. I've got this couch in here handy too, of course. Might not be as comfy as one of my custom coffins, but to each their own."

He got up and went into the kitchen to rummage through his pantry and decide on something to cook. It occurred to him that he was putting an awful lot of effort into helping these lads out, and he frowned a bit, irritated with himself.

"Face it, old codger," he muttered, "you're a bloody softy."

And he had a particular soft spot for the underdogs and strays of the world. He found a bottle of red wine and he paused, staring at it as the color reminded him of the flowing hair of one particular, flamboyant reaper with androgynous looks and a penchant for flirting with men. "Hmm, I wonder what Miss Sutcliff's real motivation is, in all this?"

For that matter, he wondered how Grell was doing…and that confused him. "Damned youngsters," he grumbled, "They're making me sentimental."

"Undertaker? May I help? I am afraid I am rather restless at the moment, as I seem to have already had a nap." Will offered as he approached the ancient carefully. The area behind his ears turned pink as he spoke. "Also, perhaps it could make up for my lack of self control earlier."

The ancient peeked out from his open pantry. "Eh? Oh, it's you." He scratched his chin with long black nails and he shrugged. "Y' could fetch one of the big pots from the cabinet over there for me and get me a chef's knife and a pairing knife from the set by the stove over there. Hate to be boring, but I think a goulash might be the ticket for tonight. Simple and fairly quick to whip up for several mouths, don't you think?"

"I believe that would be a good choice. It is hearty and filling, and as you say, able to feed many mouths," Will agreed as he collected the one of the larger pots and carried it to the stove. He retrieved the requested knives next, placing them by the chopping block.

"I think you'll like my goulash," announced Undertaker, suddenly chipper. At least _one_ good thing could come of this: he'd finally have the chance to show off his culinary skills to guests. All his dollies ever wanted to eat was people, so they were useless as food critics. He never got the chance to cook for anyone besides himself, and most folk politely declined his offer when he tried to get them to try his bone-shaped baked treats.

He began to whistle as he bent over to gather a selection of veggies from the bottom of the pantry. A couple onions, some garlic, a couple of carrots, a parsnip, some baby potatoes and a tomato. He dropped them into his robe like an apron to carry it all to the counter, revealing his buckle-laden, thigh-high boots to view. He dropped the veggies off and he caught the tomato before it could roll off the counter.

"Get back there, you," he threatened the tomato. "You know, those are classified as fruits and not veggies? Funny thing, that, since they've a savory taste to them."

Moving on to the cold box without listening for William's reply, he picked out some beef chuck he'd defrosted the day before with the intention of making something else for himself…he couldn't remember what. He put it on the chopping block and then he began to select spices from the cabinet.

"Let's see…Kosher salt…black pepper…paprika…marjoram…caraway seeds…bay leaves…"

He kept muttering to himself as he mentally reviewed the list and pulled the spices from the rack. "Oh, I ought to do something with this mop of mine before I get started," he recalled, and he twisted his flowing locks and tied them into a knot to make a ponytail, doing so with quick efficiency that suggested he'd done it this way many times before.

Will stood, watching in awe as the Undertaker moved quickly around him. "Under… I…do you… Would you…never mind." Will gave up and patiently waited for the blasted man to give him something to do.

"Oh, you're still here?" The mortician was so focused on preparations that he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. He was so used to being alone all the time, it was difficult for him to adjust to having company. He nodded at the meat. "Mind cutting that into cubes for me while I start chopping up th' veggies, chap?"

Will bowed his head and replied. "I do not mind. Whatever way I can be of use. Is there anything specific about how you would prefer them to be cubed?"

"Nothing fancy. Just cut 'em into bite-sized pieces using that bigger knife." Undertaker washed his hands in the sink before he started.

Whistling again, the mortician took up the pairing knife and pulled out another cutting board for the vegetables. Starting with the onions, he diced them up and dropped them into the pot, adding a bit of olive oil. "Toss the meat in there with those when y' finish with it, and we'll start up the stove to brown it with the onions."

Turning to the meat, Will began to chop it as instructed. He listened to the Undertaker as he whistled a little tune. He stared at the meat as he cut into each slice. He enjoyed cooking. It was a passion of his, but he was not accustomed to preparing meals for others. His life was solitude, and now that and comfort had been stolen from him. Hearing laughter coming from across the way, Will looked up, his eyes falling on Ronald as he told Alan a story that had them both laughing heartily in the parlor.

"I wonder what they are about in there?" Will asked out loud as he continued with his task, not realizing he had vocalized his thoughts. "Is this really the time for them to be laughing, as though our world was not in chaos?"

Undertaker turned from his task and he cocked his head, a small grin curving his lips. "If ever there's a time for laughter, Mr. Spears, it's when things are darkest. Laughter reminds us that we're alive…gives the body, mind and soul a little boost. You ought to try it sometime. I think it would do y' some good."

He looked at the job William had done so far and he jerked his chin at the direction of the archway. "You ought t' join them, lad. I can finish up here on my own. You did a fine job assisting me."

"Pardon?" Will looked up at the Undertaker, surprised. "Are you dismissing me, Sir?"

"Not so much 'dismissing' you as encouraging you t' relax for a bit while you still can, and visit with your companions. The three of you are stuck with each other for a while. Might do y' some good t' get to know each other better, yeah?"

Undertaker grinned and collected the meat to put it in the pot, drizzling some olive oil over it. He added the carrots, potatoes and parsnips he'd chopped himself, and he sprinkled some salt and pepper into the mix, stirring it with a wooden spoon. With a flick of his hand, he ignited the wood in the potbelly stove.

"We can chat some more once I get this started," promised the mortician. He recalled that this fellow held him in high regards—poor sod—and for some reason he decided to try and be nice to him. "I won't be long, chap. Just need t' brown this and toss in some paprika. I'll join you lot while it's simmering, until it's time for me to add the other ingredients."

"I am afraid I am not one to do much socializing. I highly doubt I have anything in common with Mister Knox and Mister Humphries." Will turned his attention back to the younger reapers, still laughing and chatting up a storm. "They would find me boring and dull. I for one do not understand Mister Knox's desire to drink and gallivant. I should think that a conversation would be most uncomfortable with him."

Undertaker tilted his head inquisitively. "How do y' know if you don't try?" he persisted. "I doubt you'll find my company much better, mate. I've got a ticklish funny-bone myself, after all."

He made a swatting motion with his spoon, acting as if he were about to spank Will with it. "Now shoo…go mingle. I'll be in there in a while."

Reluctantly, Will washed his hands and dried them and removed himself to the parlour. As he entered he cleared his throat. "Mister Knox. Mister Humphries. May I join you?"

The two paused in their conversation and looked up at William, Alan flashed him a friendly smile. "Of course you may."

Ronald used his foot to kick out a chair for the stoic reaper, "Pop a squat. We were just sharing stories of what happened back in our individual academy days."

Undertaker watched him go with a little smile. Baby steps. Spears just needed to ease into it and give it a chance. He'd need to establish a rapport with them outside a work relationship, if he was to establish a link with them.

* * *

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Undertaker joined their chat until he needed to add the rest of the ingredients to the goulash, and he had William assist him with that before leaving it to simmer for a while and heading back into the parlor. After eating the meal he'd prepared, his guests retired for the rest of the day to get some sleep while they could. He put away the leftovers in the cold box and decided to have a little nap himself. When the sun went down, the displaced agents took turns getting cleaned up and then they left via a portal the Undertaker created for them—one that could not be easily traced by Dispatch. He promised to teach them how to do the same themselves once they returned, as well as help them form spirit links with each other to help keep track of each other.

The one danger in the latter was that if any one of them turned or got captured, those links could be used as a tool for Dispatch to hunt the rest down. He liked to think that none of them would break under torture or betray the others, but the people responsible for this mess seemed to be very persuasive. There was no telling what they'd offered to Sutcliff or Slingby in return for their services, but the mortician had a sneaking suspicion that young Humphries might have some clue about his former partner's motivations.

"Good luck, lads," muttered the ancient as they vanished through the portal. They would probably need it.

* * *

Jeffries checked his watch again and he kept to the shadows. Fortunately for him, none of the Shinigami agents out scouring the city seemed to have moved on from this area for the time being. He debated calling Spears, but since the man was still using a bugged phone, he didn't want him answering it and having the activity show up on Dispatch boards.

"Come on, boss Spears," he muttered under his breath, bouncing on his heels in his nervous anxiety. "Hope you haven't gotten nabbed."

He crouched down behind a trash bin as someone passed by on the street, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just a couple of civilians coming and going from the lounge. Right now, Dispatch seemed more focused on searching mortal London…because logic would dictate that most of the reapers they were searching for would have left the Shinigami realm to hide in the mortal one. Alexander supposed he should have been one of them, but he was trying not to be predictable.

He'd give Spears another twenty minutes. He'd end up popped himself if he stuck around for much—

A portal formed in the alleyway and Alexander backed up hastily, slipping around the corner and manifesting his black and gold weed-whacker. "Shit…"

"Jeffries?!" Will called out quietly, announcing his arrival along with Ronald and Alan following close behind. Then just as quickly as it formed, the portal closed and vanished.

"Jeffries, are you here?" He inquired once more, scanning the narrow back street.

Alex poked his head out from around the corner, keeping his scythe ready. "Boss Spears?" His voice was filled with caution.

"Yes, it is I." Will perked up hearing his name called. Still though, he kept his voice low. For all he knew it could be a trap, but his gut said the voice belonged to his trusted subordinate, Alexander Jeffries.

"And friends." Ron grinned. "Just the three of us."

"Quiet, Ronald." Alan hushed, "We don't know who else is lurking around."

Will glared over his shoulder at the blond for being careless once more. Adjusting his glasses, he looked back down they alley and called out once more. "We're here. Where are you, Jeffries? Where are you hiding? Come out. It is safe."

Alexander stepped out from the shadows, looking them all over. "Thank Zeus. I thought you might be goners. I was ready to jet out of here at any moment."

The brunet looked over at the reaper they had come to retrieve and smiled, "If you are ready, we should head back to safety soon."

Alex frowned a bit. "Where to? I've got my things in the car, back behind us." He turned and nodded in the direction of his busted up vehicle. "Are you sure you've got a safe place?"

"Safer than before." Ron shrugged, "You like legendary old farts, right? He's helping us."

"Legendary old…oh. Wait a minute, you mean Undertaker?" Alexander looked torn between interest and wariness.

"Yes, what the disrespectful kid means is the Undertaker." Alan sighed, "Legendary Death is staying neutral in this. He has no desire to join them, but he also doesn't want to get involved more than he has to. However, he did agree to help up to a new safe spot where we can figure out what to do."

"He's still an old fart." Ron shrugged.

Jeffries bit his lip uncertainly. "So we're going back to his place?"

William adjusted his glasses and looked up at the newest reaper to join their ranks. "Yes. We can assist you in retrieving your belongings, but we need to move fast and return post-haste. The Undertaker has been gracious in offering his services. I can assure you, he is neutral in the battle. Now if you will please." Will ushered for him to lead the way, so as they could return to the safety of Undertaker's shop, in the mortal realm.

"Wow…okay." Alexander led them to his car, banishing his scythe but reaching for the salt packet hidden within his inner blazer pocket. He carelessly tossed a pinch over his shoulder for luck…and he accidentally got some in William's eye in the process.

Though the salt burned, Will did his best to remain calm and not draw attention to their location. Hissing, he removed his glasses and closed his eyes. They began to water almost instantly. He reached out and grabbed the first arm he came into contact with.

Through gritted teeth he spoke. "I need water and a clean cloth stat. Burns…burns like the pit of Hell. Damn it, Jeffries!"

Ronald coughed as he held back a snicker before hurrying over to William, pulling out a clean handkerchief, "Here, we don't have clean water, but use this." he offered.

Alex turned to look at him, blinking owlishly. "Oh, did I get you?" He smiled uncomfortably. "Er, sorry. I guess I should tell people not to walk right behind me. I've got some bottled water in my car and some tissues, though. Sorry…sorry!"

He grabbed William's wrist—the one clutching Ronald's tissue—and dragged him down an alley to the left, to his waiting vehicle. He almost threw the supervisor into the wall when he got there, letting go of his hand to leave poor William stumbling with his glasses in one hand and Ronald's handkerchief clutched in the other. Hopping into the car, Alexander seemed oblivious to William's plight as he grabbed up his half-drank bottle of water, snatched a tissue from the dash and hopped back out.

"Here!" offered the junior officer—and he popped the top of the bottle and squirted it all over William's afflicted eye…along with his face. "Is that better?"

Ronald ran after the two, "Hey! You could have just ran to get the water!"

Alex gave a little start and he poked his head out the door of his car. "W-well, I tossed salt in his eye by accident and we've got to motor! Sorry!" He smiled again, and he ripped a tissue from the little pack in his car—inadvertently tearing it in half—and he got back out of the car to offer the shredded mess of it to the sputtering supervisor.

"Here—"

"And I was already helping him." Ronald insisted, "Your help would be more—nasty pocket-salt in his eyes or something." He said, snatching the water bottle away from Alex.

Alex blinked at him, his hand going slack as Ronald snatched the bottle from him. "Uh, okay. Grabby much, Knox? What's your damage?"

Ronald sneered at Alex and turned, taking his handkerchief from William and wetting it, "Here…" he said, moving to gently try to help wash out William's eyes.

Will stood there looking like a drowned rat, water dripping from the tip of his nose, his hands curling into fists. His eyes darted back and forth between the two blurs. Their bickering was weighing on his exasperated nerves.

Ready to pop, he snapped. "Gentlemen, if you _please_!"

Jeffries stopped himself from telling Knox he was acting like a gargoyle guarding the clock tower, and he smiled. "Sorry. I'll just grab my things so we can skip out of here while we can."

He glanced at Ronald in a quietly perplexed manner before diving into his car again. They usually got along…talking about tech stuff and all. Now he was all over him like an irate bird protecting a nest, and he had no clue what he'd done.

"By the way," he grunted as he lugged his duffle bag out the back of his car and slung it on, "You're acting like jerks…except Mr. Humphries. Uh…sorry about the salt, Boss Spears. And sorry for…whatever…Knox."

He was still trying to figure out what pissed the blond off so much.

"How are we the jerks in this?" Ronald huffed, "How are your eyes, Senpai?" he asked, turning back to the fuming older reaper.

Alan sighed, "Lets get back to our current safe spot before we are discovered. You can continue whatever this is there where Undertaker can put it to an end and put you in a time-out."

"I am alright." Will replied, using the handkerchief to wipe his face dry. "Mister Humphries is correct, we need to return to Undertaker's."

Stuffing the cloth into his trouser pocket, he ran his fingers through his silky, dark locks and slipped his glasses back on. Smiling, forcefully, Will nodded and said. "Gentlemen, shall we?"

"Thought you'd never ask," sighed Jeffries.

* * *

He knew that nobody could possibly teleport directly into his shop without knowing how to bypass the wards he'd set up, and yet the ancient hadn't lived for as long as this by doing things in halves. He pushed his coffin open and he awakened two of his sleeping "children", holed up in adjacent coffins lying against the wall. He manifested his death scythe as the portal opened in the center of his shop, and he waited to see who would come from it. When he saw William step out first, he relaxed. Three other reapers practically tumbled in behind him; Humphries, Knox and some chap Undertaker had never met before.

"Any more of you where that came from?" inquired the mortician when Spears seemed to regain his bearings.

"If there is, they aren't with us." Ronald shrugged, "We only went to get this jerk." he jabbed his thumb in Alex's direction.

"Enough." Will glowered at the blond. He turned and looked up at the Undertaker. "Yes, this is all of us. Undertaker, this is Alexander Jeffries. The one we went back for. Jeffries, this—"

Jeffries interrupted and he gave Ronald another perplexed look. "What the hell is your _issue_? Okay, so I accidentally threw some salt in boss Spear's face, but—"

"Shut it," snapped Undertaker suddenly, more concerned with closing their portal and cutting off any traces than whatever personal issues they might have. He banished the energies and when he finished, he looked at the gathering before him. Young…so young. Even the eldest amongst them were just babes to him.

"You don't have time for this. Not a one of you. Come this way, Mr. Jeffries, and put your luggage with the rest. I've got a crash course t' give you all. If I hear one word of arguing from any of you, I'll wash your mouths out with soap, hear?"

Alan took Alex's bag from him, "Go on ahead, I'll take your things over there with the rest of our bags." he offered kindly with a smile.

The junior officer breathed a bit easier, his gaze flitting about the curiosities of the shop with interest. "Thanks, Mr. Humphries. Wow, this place…it's really…what's that over there?"

He absently released his bag to Alan's care, and he started heading for one of the many shelves housing various objects from grotesque to unassuming curiosities. Undertaker saw him reaching out for something, and he seemed to vanish from the spot and re-appear beside the curious youngling.

He smacked Alexander's hand as it reached out to touch a jar of viscous blue fluid.

"No! Don't touch, you little green thing!"

Alex jumped back and gasped, looking at the mortician with the boyish eyes of one that knew no better. "S-sorry! I just…it looks really cool."

Undertaker glanced around, and it occurred to him that he was—quite literally—surrounded by children.

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered.

* * *

After everyone was rested and refreshed, Undertaker taught them all how to form untraceable portals, to move about with. He even—against his better judgment—gave them the figurative "key" to his shop, portal-wise, so that they could always come to him for advice or help. He still wasn't sure why in Hades he was involving himself so much in their troubles, save for the fact that as a deserter himself, he could empathize with them. Ronald and Alexander both had some trouble with the portal creation, but with practice, Undertaker believed they would both improve. They stayed for two more days under his tutelage, before he felt they'd learned all they could from him and sent them on their way.

He was surprisingly sorry to see them go. His shop and home felt oddly empty to him, once he created the portal to Copenhagen and sent the young reapers on their way to take up refuge there for a while. Now all he had were his dollies—who were terrible conversationalists and could not appreciate his cooking.

"Soft," he muttered to himself as he looked about his lonely property. "I'm getting soft, in my old age."

* * *

Eric got awoken at two in the morning by a phone call. At first, he presumed it was work calling him in for another shady job, but when he realized it was his secure phone ringing and not his work phone, he eagerly snatched it up and answered.

"Alan?"

"Eric." Alan's soft, gentle voice answered back after only a second's pause. Relief was evident in his tone. He'd grown worried when Eric hadn't answered right away. He figured late was a better time to try and call as the Scotsman would less likely be around other people that they couldn't trust.

"Thank Lugh," sighed the Scotsman, sitting up in the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair, glancing out the window. "Are ye a'right, sweetheart? I started tae try an' call ya yesterday, but they called me in fer a lie detector test an' I dinnae want tae risk talking to ya before I went through it."

"Why would they test you like that? You already said you were on their side—are you okay?" Alan asked, a frown tugging on his lips. He didn't like it; it sounded like things just got all the more dangerous for the handsome Scotsman.

"They've started requiring it every month fer all agents tha' weren't part o' tha takeover," explained Eric. "There're ways tae beat it, but ye've got tae mentally fortify yerself first. I couldnae chance talking to ya before I took it, 'cause it would make it tha' much harder fer me tae get through tha test."

He shut his eyes and pictured Alan's sweet, fine-boned face in his mind. "I miss ya terribly, Al. I think about ye all tha time. They've been pushing me tae find ye, but they think ye've gone off tae have yer Thorns treated an' never told me where ya went. Alan, ye cannae stay in London on either side now. It's too risky. They're lookin' everywhere fer yeh an' the other missing agents. They promised amnesty if I could reach ya and get yeh tae return, but I dun' trust 'em."

"I'm not in the country any longer—mortal or reaper side." Alan reassured him, "I'm not alone, either. Ronald found me and now I'm with him, Spears, Jeffries, and a few others not from our division."

Alan sighed and paused, licking his lips nervously, "I wish you would join us as well…I miss you and worry about you." he added with a whisper, looking over his shoulder at the door. Not that he didn't trust the men he was with, but he wanted to keep private things private.

"I want tae be wi' ya too, Alan." Eric swallowed and cleared his throat. Gods, how he wished he could be by his partner's side. He still felt terrible about running out on him after making love to him for the first time. "I'm tryin' tae hang in here, so I can at least work out a way tae get th' man wi' the treatment fer tha Thorns to ya. They've put tha pressure on Sutcliff tae recruit tha Undertaker, too. I doubt it can be done…tha man's already made it clear he'd no' interested."

The brunet sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't care about their 'cure' for Thorns. I care about you. I'd rather see you safe with me, and…" his cheeks heated up as he continued with his plea, "I want you in my arms again, Eric."

The Scotsman felt a physical ache in his chest. He vividly recalled how Alan fit against him and he groaned softly with longing. "I haven't stopped thinking of tha' night we had together. Cannae stop thinkin' of how ya felt in mah arms. I dream about ye all tha time, sweetheart, but I have tae try…have tae save ye, if I can. Please try tae understand tha'. It's all I really care about."

His fingertips traced the phone as if he were caressing the other reaper's face, and he wished to all creation he could be there with Alan now, holding him.

Alan closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't succumb to tears, "And if it's fake? If they can't do what they said they can? You're simply wasting the time we could be spending together…" It seemed like every one of their conversations ended like this: his begging for the man he'd fallen in love with to run away and join him again.

"I dun' think its fake, Alan. The man wi' tha treatment explained it all tae me, an' I really believe it could work. It has somethin' tae do wi' parts of cinematic records from yer reaping targets contaminating yer own 'cause they passed through ya. This guy has a way tae clean it up, an' if it works, ye'll be safe again. I…I cannae let ya die, Al. I jus' can't. If there were any way I could be there wi' ya right now and still get this cure, I would. I jus' need enough time tae work out how tae get it to ya, an' then we can be together again. I'll find a way tae keep sending yer medicine to ya, if ye cannae get it yerself. Jus' try tae be patient an' stay safe, 'till then."

"Promise me," Alan choked, "That you'll run from them if you get the slightest hint that something went wrong and that you are in danger. Please promise me that."

Eric nodded, closing his eyes again. "I promise, sweetheart. Come hell 'r high water, I'll come fer ya someday soon. Tha thought of being wi' ye again is all tha' gets me through tha day anymore."

"Just…stay safe. I hate not knowing what's happening to you—I love you too much to not worry."

"I'll try tae keep in touch more often," promised Eric. "An' I'll do mah best tae let ya know if an' when the situation changes. G'night, sweetheart. I'll hold ye in mah dreams, since I cannae do it in person right now."

"Good night…" Alan whispered, "I love you."

Hanging up, he sighed and pocketed his phone, walking back into the main room where they were currently based. It wasn't the most inviting place to stay. Unpainted walls, hard wooden floors, no real furnishings…but it was at least safe from the corrupted dispatch for the time-being.

* * *

Ronald walked into the small side-room where he would be staying while they were in the place Undertaker had sent them. Sighing, he swiped up the pillow on the other cot he hadn't claimed and he tossed it on top of his own pillow before reclining back against them, bringing a bottle of cheep beer to his lips and tipping it back—wishing he had something better to drink.

Will stood in the doorway eyeing the cot he would have to sleep on until they were forced to flee once more. His eyes immediately noticed there was no pillow on the thin mattress. Following his hunch, he looked over at the blond resting on his cot. He was obviously leaning back on two pillows instead of one and William instantly knew the boy had stolen his only taste of comfort.

Adjusting his glasses, he cleared his throat. "Mister Knox, I must ask you to return that pillow to the other cot. It appears I will be your roommate for the duration of our stay here. It seems Mister Humphries and Mister Jeffries lay claim to the other room and cots as I was stocking our pantry."

Ron glanced up a him, "You aren't using it yet." he shrugged, taking another sip of beer, "Uhg, this stuff taste like ass…"

Sighing, William walked over to his cot and sat down. He reached over and pulled his duffle bag over, with everything he had purchased in London, and began to rummage through it.

"I cannot imagine what ass would taste like, but I shall take your word for it, Mister Knox."

"It's a figure of speech, Senpai." Ron said, rolling his eyes, "I've never licked an ass before." Yet he downed the rest of the bottle and set it on the floor.

Will looked up and adjusted his glasses. "That is an entirely odd expression then. Who would come up with such a way to describe a beverage—or anything, for that matter? How would one know what ass were to taste like if they have never tasted ass to begin with? Your choice of description puzzles me, Mister Knox."

"Are you saying you want me to go lick a mule so that I can better compare flavors of something?" Ronald asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No I am not, Mister Knox." Will replied, glaring at the blond. "Honestly, sometimes I do not understand you at all. Too concerned about the flavor of your beer, when you should be concerned about how we are going to survive."

"What's the point stressing about what might happen if they find us when we are safe at the moment? You'll give yourself white hair like the old geezer if you live in future stresses, Senpai."

Will once more had resumed rummaging through his bag, but paused at the blond's statement. "I highly doubt my hair will age. As for your other statement, there is need to worry. I am the most wanted of all the reaper's on the list and I have no idea for certain as to why. I would very much like to march into Dispatch and demand to know what is going on, but I am afraid that is quite impossible and until the situation is resolved and things have returned to normal, I will not be able to relax."

"And what if it never returns to normal—what then? Spend the rest of forever a stressed mess?" Ron asked, rolling onto his side and looking at William.

"No, but it would mean would never be allowed to truly live again. We would always be the hunted and forever hiding or running. I care to do neither. I would like to regain my dignity and my home." Will looked down into his bag, still searching for an unknown item. "I am not stressed, just concerned."

"You're stressed. You have a vein on your neck that throbs when you stress and it hasn't stopped since we made our escape." Ronald shrugged.

"I am not stressed…well I am at the moment. I am unable to find something I packed. I could have sworn I packed in my toiletry bag, but I have searched it and I am checking this one in case, but it seems to be not here as well." Will replied, sighing as he looked over at the blond across from him.

"Maybe you forgot it." Ron shrugged, "What are you missing?"

"Nothing…it's personal." Will snapped as he dove back into his bag, growing more frantic at the thought of having left the mystery item behind. "It has got to be here. Damn it! I _know_ I packed it! I am not foolish enough to have left it behind."

He stood up, thinking a better angle might allow him to see further into the bag.

"It has got to be here. It was very difficult to procure while we were in London. If I do not find it, Dispatch may get their wish." Will rambled, forgetting the blond was listening to his every word.

"Personal…yet you went snooping in my pockets and had a nice look at my personal items—according to the geezer, that is." Ron smirked, "Come on, maybe I saw where it is."

"Snooping? I was doing no such thing," Will replied in a perturbed voice. "I was looking for my phone—that you had stolen. I thought perhaps in my mad dash from the hotel I had slipped it into your bag by accident."

Giving up, he sat down on the cot and leaned forward. He placed his elbows on his knees, his hands cradling his throbbing head. He was sure he had packed the bottle of powder he had scoured London in search of; a rare medicinal powder that he required. Only one apothecary shop carried the powder on hand as it was not common for mortals to use.

Taking a cleansing breath, Will looked over at the blond. "It is personal, Ronald. I doubt highly you would have seen what I am looking for. It is nothing like your con…your personal items."

"Fine—be stubborn." Ronald huffed, running a hand through his hair, "Maybe you just need a good distraction."

"You do not know what you are talking about. I can not tell you what I am looking for, but it is of great importance I can assure you." Will replied, trying to keep calm.

Ron grabbed Will's pillow out from under him and threw it into William's face, "Then why are you telling me about it if you don't want me to know?"

"…Humph…" Will grunted as the pillow met his face. "What in the bloody Hell was that for? You could have been a gentleman and returned it to me in a more respectful manner. Instead you act like hooligan."

"Because you are being stubborn!" Ron huffed, "I was trying to help you."

"I understand you were trying to help, Mister Knox. And while I appreciate the fact, what I am looking for…It could put me in grave danger. If Dispatch were to find out, they would have something they could use against me."

Taking a deep breath, Will stood up and began to pace the room. He ran his fingers through his hair as he moved about the small room, the heels of his shoes clicking on the wooden floor. The room felt small; as though it were closing in all around him. He was nervous and jittery. He knew he needed the medicine and he needed it soon. He paused and looked at Ronald.

_~Perhaps I can trust him. No. What good would it do to tell him if you left the bottle behind?~_ Will shook his head, sweat was forming on his brow. _~But perhaps you didn't look well enough. Perhaps a fresh set of eyes, or the Undertaker. Surely he has something available to control this sort of thing…or at least access to it. Maybe I should contact him and inquire about it, before I break.~_

He looked at the door. _~But that would require opening up a portal, leaving and explaining to the Undertaker about my illness. The others would be curious and I would be forced to explain why I had to use a portal. This is a private matter. They do not need to know that their boss is sick and suffers such a weakness. No, I shall keep this to myself.~_

Turning back around, his gaze washed over Ronald. The room spun as he took a step forward. Blackness threatened to over take him, and he went hard down onto his knees.

Ron's cot toppled onto it's side as he leapt from it, gasping as he moved to catch his boss before the rest of him hit the floor, "Senpai!" He struggled to get the fallen man over and back onto his cot, laying him down. "What the heck was that..?"

He frowned. Maybe William wasn't feeling all that great? Maybe he was sick? He was looking desperately for something 'personal' and now he'd collapsed—maybe said 'personal' item was some sort of medication? or smelling salts…or…hell, he didn't know. He was a dispatch officer, not a medical reaper.

Ronald grabbed William's bag and, risking getting into trouble with the man, he started sifting through it, dumping everything out of the bag onto the foot of the cot and examining the contents for anything 'personal' that could possibly help. But he found nothing.

With a sigh, he grabbed the bag to put things back inside, but he paused when the bag felt heavier than it should. Curious, he looked inside and found a rip in the lining. Using his fingers to rip it open further to look, he found a plastic container with a medical symbol on the white cap. He pulled it out and read the label.

"Are these…anxiety meds?" he frowned, then looked over at William. It made sense, really, that William would suffer from something like that. Sitting on the edge of the cot, he turned the bottle over to read the instructions.

"Shh, just take deep breaths, Senpai…this thing is not something I normally do and I don't wanna mess it up and mess you up… water…" Ron hopped up and ran over to the corner where provisions were being stored, finding a bottle of water that Alex had brought from his car.

"Powder….why can't it be something easy like pills? 'take two pills with water' would be so much better than grams of powder mixed with water," he complained to himself as he set to work trying to mix the medication properly.

"Okay, I think this is right. Sure hope it is," Ron said after a moment, carrying it over to William and pulling him up so he could take the medication.

Will shook as he was lifted, but he did not fight the blond when he pressed the medicine to his lips and in that moment he felt secure. The feeling of safety emanating from the young reaper's body. It was a new sensation, being held and helped. This of course was due to no-one knowing of his condition. He had always stayed on top of his prescribed medication, but with the desperation of their situation, he had been off and using mortal drugs as compensation. It was only a consolation to what he could get back home.

Wasting none of the horrid tasting liquid, William swallowed it as fast as he could and looked up at Ronald. He was barely able to make out the blond's features, but it was enough. Still fumbling with his neck tie as a result from the attack, the knot finally gave way and he relaxed even more into Ronald's hold.

"Th-thank you. Pl-please do not t-tell th-the others." he stuttered, his cheeks pinking up.

"Don't tell..? If you had told me maybe you wouldn't have needed me to freak out and think you were dying or something!" Ron scolded, yet his tone was low and gentle.

Shaking his head, Will replied—still slightly panicked. "No, one c-can know."

"I know…and what happens if this happens again and I'm not here to freak out over you?"

"As s-soon as I c-can I have t-to get some f-from home. Some-somehow." Will stuttered more as he tried to rein in his thoughts. He was grateful that Ronald had been there, especially since the youth was not taking jabs at him.

"I don't think that's possible," observed Ronald. "At least, not anytime soon…not before you run out, depending on how often you need it."

William closed his eyes and began to take a few deep breaths. The room came into focus as the lids of his eyes began to open. The medication was starting to take full affect, and he could feel his own pulse beginning to slow back to a normal rythm. His hands were not as fidgety and he laid them flat along his sides.

"That d-depends on m-my stress levels. And I t-tend to su-suffer from attacks quiet frequent-frequently."

"Then I go back to insisting that you need to relax and not worry so much about what might happen."

"How?" William looked up, unfamiliar with the idea. He had never had the luxury of relaxing and sitting back to enjoy his eternal life. He was a leader, in charge of many lives. Even in their current circumstance, he felt obligated to lead and look over the others. He was also the eldest and they needed order and structure. Just because they were no longer in the Dispatch, it did not mean they were any less a unit.

"I can-cannot. I must not be-be weak. I have to stay…to stay strong."

"Relaxing doesn't make a person weak…You don't really think that I'm weak…do you?"

Will shook his head no. "No I do not, but…but I do not know how to relax. M-my job had never offered me s-such a luxury. And the others, they will think me w-weak, when they learn of this. I must ask that you help…help me hide this from them."

"I'll only help you if you'll let me. You need to relax. I know I'm not a doctor but…it seems that it should help, right? and you need to save your meds for when you really, _really_ need it." Ron said, pulling away now that the man seemed to be fine on his own.

The loss of contact made the brunet shake a bit, but he understood that if any of the other's were to walk in and find them in each other's arms, there would be questions and for that he was thankful, Ronald had laid him back down onto the cot, where as he could make up some story about being tired or even having a headache, if someone were to come into their room.

He took another deep breath before answering. "I would appreciate any help you would be willing to offer. I just cannot guarantee I will make a good patient for you. I feel out of sorts and as many things trigger my attacks. Yes, that is correct: not all of them occur due to stress. That just seems to be the main cause. I will do my best to work with you and relax. Is that a deal?"

"Yes." Ron nodded and got up to put away the remaining water and meds, "It was hiding under the lining of your bag, by the way."

"No wonder I could not locate it," Will said as he rubbed his temples. And then before he could stop himself, he blurted out: "I was afraid."

Ron looked over his shoulder at William as he started putting William's things back in his travel bag. "William T. Spears having an emotion other than anger, annoyance and seriousness? I never thought I'd see the day." He smirked teasingly, but not to be mean; simply playful in an attempt to get the man into a better mood after his anxiety attack.

"Yes, shocking isn't it? I can feel. I do in fact have a heart beneath the layers of ice." Will closed his eyes and sighed. His body was growing more relaxed as the drugs took full effect.

"…and what would happen if I melted that ice?" Ron asked.

Will looked down at the blond and coughed, "I beg…beg your pardon? I am not quite sure if I just heard you correctly. I could have sworn you just asked about melting my ice."

"I did." Ron shrugged.

Growing nervous again in an entirely different way, Will slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and asked: "Why would you want to melt my ice? I thought you cared little for me, so I must ask as to why you would want to do such a thing?"

"To get to know you." Ron shrugged again as he closed Will's bag up and slid it on the floor under William's cot, before walking over to his own cot and picking it back up, along with his pillow and blanket before flopping onto it and letting out a beer-flavored sigh.

Perplexed, Will turned his head and watched the young reaper fix his bed and lie down upon it. Ronald had not only promised to keep his secret, but was offering a form of friendship?

"Again Mister Knox, thank you. I appreciate your assistance and your understanding of my wishes to keep my secret."

"Not talking about that…" Ron yawned, unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed. His muscles flexed in the dim light from the flickering light bulb swaying slightly overhead.

"I do not mean to pester, but what then are you talking about, Mister Knox?"

Ron stuffed his shirt into his bag beside his cot and glanced over at William, "I like you, is all….Night." He stood up and turned off the light, before getting back into bed for the night.

"Like? Mister Knox?" William questioned as he stared blankly up at the dark ceiling. He scratched his cheek, but was not satisfied and sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. "How?"

"Night, sir." Ronald flushed in the dark. Maybe he'd had too much cheap beer. His tongue got too loose for his liking, around William.

Rising from his cot, Will walked over to the wall and flipped the switch, turning the light back on. He turned around and stared at the blond's back. As he began to walk towards Ronald's bed, he prodded further. "Mister Knox, you will not get away with a 'good night'. I am terribly confused by your behavior and your statement. I can only press for an honest answer… What did y—"

"You're a smart man. I'm sure you can figure it out." Ron said, getting up to turn off the light again.

"Ronald? I do not mean to come off ignorant here, but one minute you treat me like I am some cold-hearted bastard and the next you say you like me and I have not the slightest idea in which you mean that. Now my curiosity is piqued and I would like you to explain. How do you mean you like me? The term is broad." Will huffed as he stomped back over to the light switch and flipped it immediately back on.

"It means I happen to like you despite the fact that you are—in your words— a 'cold hearted bastard'." Ron shrugged and flipped the switch, drowning them in darkness.

Brow twitching, Will flipped the switch back on, drenching them in the soft glow of their singular light bulb once more. "And your definition of 'like' means what, Mister Knox? Please enlighten me."

"Like," Ronald said in a tone like he was reciting something in a class for his teacher, "Verb; to enjoy doing something, or to feel that someone or something is pleasant or attractive. Example: I like you, Senpai."

"Oh, honestly, Mister Knox. It is like trying to pull teeth, when trying to get a straightforward answer from you. I give up." Admitting defeat, Will threw his hands up in the air, then hit the light switch, casting them in darkness again. Turning on his heel, he marched back to his bed and flopped down upon it. With a little grunt, he tugged the covers up to his chin.

"Maybe you don't understand because you don't want to," Ronald huffed. Just how thick _was_ the man? It didn't take a genius to realize Ronald had feelings for his boss.

Will's head turned to face the blond's cot. The room was dark, but with the help of the moonlight creeping in through the window he was able to make out the boy's silhouette.

"Mister Knox, I stood there trying my damndest to get an answer from you. I do not need a vocabulary lesson. I was only trying to understand…never mind. I am too flustered to even understand _myself_ at the moment. I am just not use to others liking me, in any form of the word."

"I don't know how else to word it! I like you—I like you. How the fuck can I make it any more clear to yo—" He cut himself off, his buzzed mind urging an idea into his head. And Scythe help him, he was sure he'd get a firm punch to the jaw for it. But he moved all the same, walking over to William's cot and grabbing his shoulders, yanking him up into a beer-flavored kiss.

Shocked to his very core, Will blinked a few times as his mouth was captured by Ronald's, the taste of bitter beer coating his lips. But as Ronald pressed gently and deeper against his lips, Will found his body relaxing. His eyes slowly fluttered shut, and his arms slid around the young reaper's waist. Then he surprised himself as a moan emitted from himself. Slowly, he pulled the blond down on top of him as he laid back.

_~So this is what it is meant to be liked.~_

Shocked, Ronald paused the kiss, his next words feathering over William's lips, "You didn't punch me?"

"No, I didn't. Should I have?" Will asked, searching Ronald's eyes as they stared back at him, surprised.

"I expected you to. It's not like I asked permission to touch you first."

"I believe I rather enjoyed it, and therefore found no cause to hit you, Mister Knox." William smirked up at Ronald. "I shall assume that is the definition of 'like' that you were referring to, that I did not comprehend?"

Ronald smiled and said nothing as he reconnected the kiss, taking it slightly deeper as he ran his tongue along the man's lower lip. "Mmmmh…"

* * *

Alexander groaned and stuffed his flimsy pillow over his head. He could hear Knox and Spears arguing through the wall, seeing as the little room he was sharing with Alan was right next to theirs.

"Gahh," he moaned, "Do those guys _ever_ stop arguing?"

He stopped a moment later when the noise died down to sudden, blessed silence. Hesitantly, he pulled his pillow down and lifted his head to listen. He smiled. "Oh, wow…I guess they wore themselves out or something."

He combed his auburn bangs out of his eyes and glanced over at his bunk mate. "Hey Alan, do you think—oh."

Alan Humphries was curled up on his side facing him, and his blanket had slipped down to reveal a brown plush bunny tucked under his arm. Jeffries blinked at it, his lips quirking as his eyebrows rose. He started to laugh softly in spite of himself, disturbing Alan from his restless slumber.

"Hmm..?" Alan groaned, opening his eyes and blinking a few times, waiting for the darkened room to come into a still-blurry focus. "D'you say something?" he muttered with a yawn.

It was on the tip of Alex's tongue to tease him about the rabbit, but of all the reapers he'd gone into hiding with, Alan was the nicest. He didn't boss him around and expect him to drop everything to hack some kind of information from the Shinigami broadcasts. He didn't pick on him for his superstitious habits like throwing salt over his shoulder for luck, or freaking out that time he broke a hand mirror. Besides, there was a kind of sadness about the guy that made it hard to pick on him. He couldn't resist a _little_ teasing, but he kept in gentle on account of Alan always being so nice to him.

"What's it's name?" he asked. He nodded at the stuffed animal. "The rabbit, I mean?"

"Ah—oh…" Glad for the darkness, Alan flushed, looking down at the stuffed toy he'd grabbed from his bed at home before leaving Shinigami London. Reaper eyes could see well enough in the dark, but colors were still hard to make out.

"Rose…" he bit his lip, "At least, that's the name it came with. I got it as a gift when I was first diagnosed with the Thorns of Death. The…person who gave it to me said that even thorns have a beautiful rose they protect…and that the stuffed rabbit is a reminder of that…" he explained, feeling as if the story was needed.

Alexander sobered, but he couldn't help the trace of a smile that lingered on his lips. It was a nervous habit of his. "Do you…know if the person that gave it to you is still alive? Like did they get out the way like we did, when things got crazy?"

Alan gave a small nod, hugging it closer, "He's alive and mostly safe, but he didn't get out. He…It was Eric."

"Officer Slingby?" guessed Alex. "Oh."

It was well-known by now that Slingby had helped orchestrate Alan's reunion with Director Spears and Ronald Knox, so it stood to reason that he wasn't _completely_ siding with the enemy, at least. Being a mistrustful, somewhat paranoid guy however, Alex had his doubts about the Scotsman's trustworthiness. What if he'd done all that just to get them all in one place? He kept in touch with Alan, as he understood it. Maybe he was waiting for them to settle somewhere so he could tell Dispatch exactly where to find them.

He parted his lips to mention that concern, but the way Alan was looking at the stuffed animal changed his mind. He'd already heard him defend his former partner to others before. He wasn't going to listen to any theories that he was just using him to get a location on the exiles and help Dispatch round them up.

"Sorry," he offered instead. "I know you were partners. Um…were you like…together, too?"

Alan's cheeks grew warmer yet, "It's…complicated," he admitted and took a deep breath, "We were never officially together, no…but…I…I do love him. I'm in love with him, that is…but…it's complicated…"

The fact that they made love once was none of anyone's concern other than Eric or himself. And he really couldn't explain it further without telling the whole story.

"Oh," Alex said again, not really able to relate. "Sucks that you're apart, then. I don't know what it's like to love someone like that. My classmates always told me I ought to just date a computer."

Alexander smirked. "I'm not the world's best at relating to people, I guess. I'm uh…sorry if I was sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong. I'm not so good with personal boundaries either and I ask a lot of questions without thinking, sometimes. It sounds like the guy really cares about you, though. Maybe it'll all work out and he can join up with us later on."

He laid back down, lowering his voice a little. "I hope," he said around a yawn, "that happens for you. Must be nice to connect with a person like that. G'night, Alan."

"I hope so, too. I hate worrying about him like this without knowing anything." Alan sighed, closing his eyes. "And I'm sure you'll eventually find the right person for you. Good night." he offered, snuggling with his stuffed rabbit.

* * *

-To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

Three weeks had passed since Alan and the others fled London. Eric had no idea where they went, and he had no intention of finding out. The less he knew, the better off they all were. He called Alan each week to check in on him and he had some connections that allowed him to get his prescription medications to send to him without Dispatch tracing it. The process of getting the medication to him without an address was complicated, but it worked. Eric dropped a care package off at a different post office in mortal London each week, where an unknown associate of Alan's would come to retrieve it and send it off to wherever he was. Within these packages, the Scotsman always included currency—which could be easily exchanged for mortal money in various worldwide locations in the Shinigami realm. He also included some sort of small gift, a love letter and of course, any med refills Alan required.

In addition to these precautions, he began to purchase a new temporary phone each week, with which to contact Alan and further lessen the risk of him being traced. He always let Alan know which number he would be calling from whenever he did this, before destroying the old one. They had begun subjecting him and other remaining agents from the old Dispatch to random lie detector tests. The questions sometimes varied, but he never knew when he'd have to take another test so he had to be especially careful.

_"Have you had contact with Alan Humphries since he vanished?"_

The answer was always "no"; and it was the truth, because they never specified what _kind_ of contact. He hadn't had any physical contact with his partner since he left reaper London, and that was always the meaning he kept in mind when answering that question.

_"What of the other missing agents: Spears, Knox and Jeffries?"_

Again, the answer was a truthful "no", because he'd had no contact of any kind with any of them since they were officially declared missing. Fortunately, that official pronouncement didn't occur until _after_ he crossed paths with Ronnie that day in London.

_"Are you loyal to our cause, Officer Slingby?"_

That one was a bit tricky, and the readings always came out ambiguous, like his response. "I'm loyal tae mah partner. Ye've go' a cure fer his illness, so that makes me loyal tae ye as well…even if I dun' like wha' yer doing."

And he'd never failed to complete an assignment given to him, no matter how distasteful. Seeing as his results were irrefutable, they couldn't hold that answer against him.

There were always questions of a more personal nature, of course. They'd ask if he loved Alan Humphries, and he'd look them in the eye, smirk, and tell them he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. They'd ask if he and his partner had been in a relationship, and he told them they weren't—which was again true, because the relationship didn't occur until after Alan disappeared.

It was irksome and tiring, but he endured it, passing each test they put him through but failing to completely douse their suspicions of where his loyalties truly lay. They couldn't argue his willingness to work with them; he'd already committed plenty of sins for the sake of saving Alan from the Thorns. He wasn't trusted yet, though. They were right not to trust him. He was keeping tabs on Professor Daniels' comings and goings, slowly formulating a plan to bring the man to Alan and force him to perform his cure on him.

For that matter, Grell wasn't doing all that fabulously with them, either. Fortunately for the redhead, he truly _hadn't_ seen or heard from the reapers he'd signed a contract to protect, so he didn't need to lie even if he wanted to…but Grell had a mouth on him and he'd never been particularly in love with authority—unless it was in the bedroom. He'd earned himself demerits and overtime the last time he had to take a lie detector test, because all of his answers fairly dripped theatrical sarcasm that had the test conductor red in the face with anger by the end of it.

Eric was just thinking of these things on his way out of Headquarters to his latest assignment, and he couldn't help but smirk. He'd have loved to be a fly on the wall for that one.

* * *

"So I see they subjected you to yet another loyalty test." Grell said to the approaching blond as he exited the testing room. His lip curled in disgust as he leaned against the wall of the long corridor on floor thirteen of the Shinigami Dispatch Association's main building. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had one red, high-heeled foot pressed against the wall.

Today he was in an even more irritable mood than usual. The night before he had gotten little to no sleep. And once more, the new higher-ups had called early in the morning for him to report to headquarters. He was to receive new orders for a new top secret assignment. He figured more than likely it would turn out to be another typical assassination mission, since that seemed to be all he was ever given. The only exceptions, of course, were recruiting Undertaker and his own random lie detector testing.

He had been in no rush to get there. Deciding that if he was so important to their cause, they could wait until he was good and damned-well ready to show up. After all; he was not some dog that came the minute he was called. He was Grell Sutcliff. He was the blood lusting "Queen of Death". Internally, he giggled at the title he had recently given himself.

"Let me guess, they asked yet again, if you were or had been intimate with Alan?"

Eric leaned against the wall across from him and nodded. "Aye, like always. Dun' see how it's relevant, but they always ask. I'm starting tae wonder if they get some sort o' sick thrill out of diggin' into our personal lives. Have they still been botherin' ya about Spears?"

To his knowledge, they were putting the thumbscrews to Grell about William, just like they were doing to him with Alan. It was no secret that Grell had harbored an infatuation with Spears for long years, but it didn't seem to be reciprocated. Eric never asked for details, figuring it was their personal business.

"Among a million other personal questions." Grell replied averting his gaze. "I have not spoken to Will since the day before he disappeared. Ronnie was never suppose to get involved. Not yet, at least."

He turned his head and looked back over at the blond and his foot began to tap against the wall. "I am beginning to think this was a bad idea. And today… never mind. I honestly have no idea who they want me to take out now. It's just, I have just about had it with the way they are treating me. If I don't turn Undertaker…"

Grell pushed away from the wall and walked over to Eric's side. His eyes narrowing as he stared into Eric's own two-toned, green eyes. "Do you honestly believe they have a cure for Alan?"

Eric nodded. "I've been shown tha proof. It's solid. I jus' have tae do mah part tae get it fer him…if I can ever get him back."

He wanted to tell the redhead the truth…wanted to tell him that he'd orchestrated Alan's disappearance because he couldn't bear getting him involved. He wished he could confess everything to Grell, but even if he was sure he wouldn't turn on him, this wasn't the place to start sharing things. He kept the book closed, biding his time to be certain he could trust this volatile reaper before parting with his secrets.

Something else Grell had said piqued his curiosity. He wondered what sort of threat Grell might be operating under. It was a dangerous time for them all…a time that tested loyalty and trust for everyone. He couldn't speak with him there, though. Too many ears and eyes. He checked his watch. "Come have lunch wi' me. No' here; I'm sick of cafeteria food. We could go tae tha' bistro off 89th an' get some fresh air. I'll drive."

Opening his mouth to protest, Grell held his tongue and glanced down the corridor, that he was suppose to be walking down at this very moment. But his anger peaked once more and his rebellious nature kicked in.

"I'd love to, Eric." the redhead answered turning his face back up to the blond's and smiled. "I believe they can wait just a tad longer. After all; a lady does her best slaughtering on a full stomach."

He gave a little giggle, then turned around and linked his arm with Eric's.

* * *

Once they were in his car, Eric sighed and looked at Grell. "Dunno if it was obvious, but I wanted tae talk away from pryin' ears. Problem is, this whole situation has put us all in a situation where we cannae trust people…no' even our old work associates. An' let's face it, ye an' I were ne'er tha most 'moral' reapers, anyhow."

He sighed, and he gazed into Grell's eyes somberly. "Can I trust ya, Grell? Do ya think yeh can trust me? Right now, we're all tha's left of tha original team of senior officers, an' we're tha closest things tae allies either of us really has anymore. I suggested tha bistro, but I'm thinkin' we're best off picking up somethin' tae go an' eating in a quiet spot in a park, where we can talk wi'out others passing by an overhearing us."

"Well that is an interesting question indeed…do I trust you?" Grell smirked as he relaxed into the comfortable seat of Eric's car. He turned his head and looked out the window, peering up at the Dispatch's main building. His cocky expression faded and turned pensive. Eric was correct; they were alone in this game. They were all each other had. Their team did not exist any longer and both of them had been in trouble numerous times. That was why, Grell figured, the reason they were selected in secret, to pull off the assassinations and recruiting assignments they had be given. They were ballsy and unafraid of getting dirty, especially when they both had things they stood to loose, if they refused. The ice they were standing on at any moment could break beneath them.

A chill washed over the redhead and he rubbed his arms. Goosebumps covered his exposed flesh as he thought of what might happen to either of them if they tried to leave. Trying to shake the uneasy feeling from his mind, Grell chuckled and looked over at the blond.

"As for your lunch idea…yes I quite agree. We cannot risk being over heard. Though I must say, darling, it rather sounds like you have something you are desperate to get off of your chest. Am I right, Eric?" He poked the blond in the cheek with the red-painted nail of his right index finger.

"I jus' want tae clear th' air an' figure out where we stand wi' each other," answered the Scotsman evasively as he buckled up and put the car into gear. He checked for traffic before pulling out of his parking spot. "There might be one 'r two things I'd like tae talk about. Sounds like you've go' somethin' on yer mind as well."

He glanced at the redhead sidelong. "I'm curious tae hear wha' they've been holdin' o'er yer head concerning tha recruitment of Undertaker, but I'm no' gonna press ya. Maybe we'll both part wi' some personal secrets by tha time we finish lunch. Let's jus' see how it goes."

"I'm surprised you don't already know the answer to that." Grell huffed. "It's not like it is some big secret. I want William unharmed. To sweeten the deal, I requested that Ronnie not be harmed either. For that, I would do anything."

But that was not all of it, and Grell was not sure if he was ready to depart the rest of his secrets about his contract with the new powers at Dispatch. Grell looked down at his lap and fiddled with his seat belt. "Ronnie, he was not suppose to know of any of this. Not yet at any rate. I must admit, I am a tad angry with William for stumbling on that blasted list so soon."

Eric smirked and turned out onto the street. "Spears has always been crafty, Grell. Ya know tha' by now. They shoulda' tried harder tae keep th' list secure. Tha man might no' be a 'hacker' per say, but he knows tha system an' he's jus' anal enough tae keep at it when he finds somethin' strange, 'till he's worked out wha' it is."

He pulled up to an oriental noodle drive-through that he knew Grell sometimes ordered from. "Ye cannae resent tha man fer being smarter than they gave him credit for."

The person operating the drive through asked what they'd like, and Eric ordered the teriyaki beef combo, then asked what Grell would like.

"Oh, umm…the teriyaki chicken combo." Grell replied, looking over the menu as best he could. Grell preferred chicken over beef and typically went for meals of that nature whenever possible.

"I hope they are safe." he muttered under his breath as he looked ahead and out the front window.

Eric said nothing, but he considered Grell's sincere concern and he began to feel a bit more secure about the possibility of telling him some of what he knew. He couldn't give him a location even if he wanted to, but he was beginning to feel like he needed to at least let him know the two reapers he cared for the most were safe, as far as he knew. That could change at any moment between the last time he spoke with Alan and the next, but…

Eric sighed. "Aye, we definitely need tae talk."

* * *

He wouldn't tell Sutcliff exactly what was on his mind until they arrived at a small park and chose a picnic table to eat at, under the shade of a large oak. "A'right, here's wha' I know," Eric said after having a bite of his noodle combo, "Spears an' Knox are alive. They're wi' Alan an' a few other agents tha' managed tae get out before the hammer came down. I cannae tell ya where, because I dun' know tha' meself…but they're alive and fer tha moment, they're safe."

Grell's eyes widened and he nearly choked on a bite of chicken. "Eric Slingby, why didn't you tell me sooner? You know I have been worried sick about them! My only hope had been that they had yet to appear on the death or detained list. How long have you known?"

Eric grimaced. "Since a little after Alan went MIA. Sorry Grell, but ye always made it seem like ya were goin' along wi' all this for personal gain, 'cept yer concern for Spears an' Knox. I needed tae feel ya out, before I said anythin'. I was jus' trying tae protect everyone, an' I hope I'm no' making a mistake telling ya this much."

He sighed and he looked off in the distance, the breeze stirring his wavy golden hair. "Ne'er thought I'd see tha day I'd have tae look at even mah closest allies wi' suspicion. I want ye tae know it's no' personal, Grell. I always liked ye…jus' dunno who I can trust anymore an' I think it's pretty obvious by now mah partner means everythin' tae me. Couldn't risk saying anything 'till I felt confident it wouldnae compromise his safety. I hope ya understand tha'."

"I can understand that. I do have my reasons for committing to all of this. Several in fact." Grell nodded as he began stirring his food. "I'm not doing all of this for Will and Ron. I have things to gain out of all of this as well. I just can't tell you everything. At least not all of it, because some of it is selfish. Though, Will and Ron were my first concern. I have added to my contract, because of what they want me to do. And if I don't play by their rules…I get none of it."

Frustrated and angry, Grell threw his chopsticks down and got up. He walked over to the rose garden and sat down on one of the many benches in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his waist and lowered his head, closing his eyes. The ribbon around his neck flapped quietly in the wind as the red and yellow roses behind him swayed.

Eric watched him, and he again felt that terrible guilt. He got up as well and he approached the smaller reaper, laying his hands over his shoulders in a gesture of comfort. "They're alive, Grell. Safe, far as I can tell. All we need tae do 'till we figure this out is our jobs. I…I dunno if I can ever look Alan in the eye again after wha' I've done, but I cannae help from doing it…for him."

He rubbed the tense shoulders solicitously. "Must be tha same fer you, I imagine."

Grell looked up, his eyes watery from unshed tears. "We're never going to see them again. Alan, Ronnie, William. We're trapped. If I don't keep doing what they say, the higher-ups, they are going to have me committed. I'll become a test subject. You're not crazy. They'd just execute you."

Eric was breathless with that tidbit. He frowned at Grell, suspecting a joke at first…but the sincere dread in his eyes made him reconsider. "Holy bloody…Grell, I suspect I cannae bitch at ye fer keeping this from me. Shit…oh, fuckin' hell…"

Eric took a few deep breaths, bowing his head for a moment. When he felt safe to speak with any wit at all, he put his hands on Grell's arms gently. "we're no' gonna let tha' happen, right? I need ya tae say it, Grell. Say they wun' do tha' to ye. Tha Grell I know wouldn't allow it…right?"

"Why do you think I rebel whenever possible and I am demanding so much? If I have to be their bitch. I'll at least act like one. I torture, maim whoever, no questions asked. I have to wash off all the blood every night. But I refuse to let them cage me like some freak they can tamper with. But I am scared, Eric. You haven't been over to the facility since they took over. You haven't seen what they have done. What they are planning." Grell's brows pinched together and he frowned up at the blond. "Why do you think they want Alan so badly? And Undertaker?"

"Alan's a good agent an' if they get him under their thumbs, they'll have me by the balls," admitted Eric with a frown. He examined a flower absently. "As fer Undertaker, I'm pretty sure they want tae recruit him 'cause he can wake the dead, so tae speak. An army of undead would make it easier fer them tae take over internationally an' keep any resistance in line."

He looked at Grell curiously. "Wha' have ya seen that I haven't, Grell? Wha's got ya so spooked, and what're they holding o'er yer head tae make ya so desperate to recruit th' Undertaker?"

Grell shook his head. "I can't say. I don't know much. But those I have been sent after to collect, the ones not to be killed, they have all been unique in some way."

He paused and swallowed. Then looked around making sure no other reapers were within earshot. "I think they want Alan, because of his thorns. As for Undertaker…you're correct. I can't tell you anymore beyond that. I've sworn not to discuss why they want Undertaker and my conditions involving him. You just have to trust me."

Eric frowned at that. He'd been shown how the procedure to cleanse the Thorns worked, but he hadn't been told how many reapers had undergone it successfully. It made him wonder if the treatment was still in experimental stages, and if they wanted to use Alan as a test subject. It made his heart go cold. If the professor was lying to him, he would make him pay…make him wish he'd been reaped.

"Come on," he said at last. "Our lunch won't finish itself and we'll have tae go back tae the office, soon."

Giggling, Grell stood up and straightened his skirt. "I was suppose to be there hours ago. I got sick and tired of being called in so early in the morning. I decided to make them wait for me."

Eric grinned. "Ye've go' a lot of gumption, Sutcliff. Glad tae see someone isn't cowed by 'em, besides meself. Bastards think they've go' us all under their heels, an' maybe they do fer now, but tha's no' tae say it'll be tha' way forever."

He sighed as they returned to the picnic table, and he resumed eating his meal without any real appetite. He'd lost a little weight over the weeks since Alan left, often forgetting meals entirely due to being overworked and stressed. True, he'd been overworked plenty of times in the past, but he had his comrades at his side and he could trust the reapers he worked with. Now there was only Grell, and they both obviously had reservations thanks to all this mess.

"I'm glad yer no' jus' blindly giving in," he confessed, "an' maybe I'm selfish, but I'm also glad ye stayed on when ya could have run like th' others. At least I've go' _one_ reaper I can trust. At least, I _hope_ I can trust ya. I took a big risk, telling ye wha' I know. Dun' make me regret it."

He chewed and swallowed a morsel, before regarding Grell seriously. "How are ya plannin' tae get Undertaker on their side, by tha way? They've been trying tae get tha man in their ranks from tha beginning. Tha's one tough assignment."

Grell looked down at his bowl of chicken. He could feel his cheeks warm and he knew he was blushing. Desperately, he stabbed a piece of chicken with the tip of one of his chopsticks. "I am suppose to do whatever it takes." he mumbled before stuffing his face.

"'Wha'ever it takes', eh?" Eric frowned, then smirked. "Wha' are ya s'posed tae do…hogtie tha man and drag him into Dispatch? I cannae imagine anyone making tha Undertaker do a bloody thing he doesn't want to."

"Something like that." Grell replied swallowing his bit of food. He averted his gaze as he picked up his drink and took a sip. "I've at least perked his curiosity."

Eric's teasing look faded, to be replaced by a pensive frown. "I'm gettin' worried about ya, Grell," he said honestly. The mad old mortician was nobody to fuck with. The state that the last group of reapers sent to parlay with him came back in was proof of that. "Do ya need someone at yer back?"

His desire to protect him was sincere; he'd always been a protective sort and now Grell was the only friend he had in Dispatch. He kind of thought of him as a girl and that brought out the chivalry in him as much as Alan's gentle innocence did.

Grell raised his head and looked over at the blond. His tongue was pushed to the inside of his cheek. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind his ear. "Thank you, but I do not need any help. I have everything under control. He just needs more incentive."

Eric sighed. "Dangerous business, tha'. I dunno wha' kind of incentive ye plan tae give him, but just be careful. Tha offer still stands if ya get in o'er yer head, Red. Och…I dinnae mean tae rhyme jus' then."

He flushed, embarrassed. For a second, he wondered what Alan would think of his offering to try and protect Grell, but he knew in his bones that his sweet-natured partner would approve. Alan always seemed to like Grell and he never teased him the way some of the other reapers tended to. Eric smiled a little, missing him even more.

"I know Al would want it tha' way," he murmured, unable to hide his lovesick expression. "He'd tell me tae watch yer back, if he were here now."

"Eric, trust me. I can handle the grave-digging fool. All he ever does is hide in one of his caskets and then pops out at me. He attempts to scare me, but I have gotten a few blows in myself." Grell rolled his eyes and rotated his wrist, a piece of chicken being whisked around and around on the end of his chopstick.

The Scotsman chuckled. "I imagine if anyone could handle that cagey old fossil, it'd be ya. Jus' watch yerself, is all I'm sayin'."

Driven by impulse as much as a need to connect, Eric leaned over and gave the redhead a quick kiss on the cheek. "Alan wouldnae forgive me if I let anythin' happen to ya. We're few enough as it is an' I've go' a bad feeling you and I could come under tha scythe soon ourselves, if we aren't careful."

Surprised by the unexpected kiss, Grell stared back wide eyed and unblinking, his lips parted slightly. The chopstick in his hand frozen in mid twirl as his wrist stopped mid rotation. A tinge of pink dusted his nose and his cheeks warmed once more. "E-Eric?"

"Mm?" mumbled the blond around another bite of food, having settled back to his original posture to finish his meal. He looked at Grell curiously and upon seeing his blush, it dawned on him that his actions might not have been appropriate…or wise.

"'M sorry, Grell," he mumbled with a grimace, wiping his mouth. "Did I mess up? I dinnae mean tae make ya uncomfortable. I jus'…don' want tae see ya get hurt, is all. Prolly shouldn't have done that, aye?"

At once, he felt guilty…like he'd been unfaithful to Alan. He hadn't meant it as more than an innocent peck of affection, but now he realized that if he weren't so madly in love with his partner, that little kiss could have been something more. Before he started falling for Humphries, he'd often admired Grell's glorious red locks from afar and more than once, he'd contemplated asking him for a date.

He began to blush. "Ah, shit…I _did_ screw up. Grell…I jus'…tha' wasnae s'posed tae be a come-on. I…I love Alan. I know ya love Will, too. Gods, I'm such an ass."

Slowly, Grell's head shook side to side. "No…umm…it's just… Eric. I would…well." He paused briefly before blurting out his next sentence. "We use to nearly hate each other."

Grell's cheeks grew even more red with embarrassment. "That didn't come out right. Let me try again. You just surprised me is all. I know you aren't coming on to me. You have never looked at me as a potential and I have always been enamored with Will. And we use to…well frankly, hate each other. So I am sorry. I was just surprised by…by your kissing me is all."

Wanting to reassure the blond, Grell sat his utensil down and took a deep breath. He reached over, placed his hand over Eric's and smiled. "You didn't cheat on Alan, Eric. You kissed me on the cheek. Not on the lips or sexually. Relax, you are in the clear."

Eric swallowed, and he turned his hand over to give Grell's a squeeze. "Thanks, red. I'll be honest wi' ya…I used tae be cross towards ya because I thought ya were pretty, an' it confused me a lil'. I ne'er meant tae be an arse. I jus' dinnnae know how tae talk to ye an' I confess; before I started havin' feelings fer Alan, I thought of asking ye out on a date. Thanks fer no' making fun of me or being mean about it. I know it was jus' a kiss on tha cheek, but…even tha' made me feel like an eejit. Mah lips are s'posed tae be fer Alan alone, an' I'm sorry I forgot tha', even jus' fer an innocent little peck. Yer a'right, Grell."

"Now I know you're lying. You never once thought about asking me out on a date. And if you kiss me like a sister, I am sure Alan could not care less. It isn't like you have ever thought about bedding me." Grell giggled, picking up his bowl of food, but as he was about to take a bite he glanced over at his companion. The look on his face made Grell's whimsical smile fade rather quickly.

"You weren't joking were you?" he questioned as his mouth turned downwards.

Eric shook his head. "No, I wasn't. I really thought of asking ya out on a date once or twice…but then, wull…"

He trailed off as he thought of Alan, and a little smile curved his lips. "Seems Alan had a way of putting my tomcatting ways tae rest. I cannae say when it happened, but sometime during his training an' afterwards, I jus' couldnae look at anyone else tha way I looked at him. Ya must think I'm a complete moron, Grell."

He brushed his foot against the ground, absently sweeping aside some fallen leaves. "Go ahead an' make fun o' me if ya want. I s'pose I deserve it."

"Eric Slingby, I would have never imagined you thought of me in such away. I just always thought you hated me. And no, I do not think you are a moron. Just a love sick nitwit." Grell teased as he grinned at the blond and then picked up his drink, taking another sip.

Eric grinned too, not denying it. "Ne'er thought I'd see tha day someone would pin me down, but I wouldnae have it any o'er way. Now I've just gotta keep Dispatch's greedy paws off him long enough tae secure his treatment."

He sighed, leaving off the fact that he was plotting to kidnap the professor that came up with the treatment, when the right moment presented itself. If it proved a success, he'd let the man go afterwards and then he'd have no reason to keep working with the enemy. He and Alan could try to build a life together—though he wondered what sort of life they'd have living on the run from authorities.

"Wha' do ye plan tae do, Grell?" he asked curiously. "I mean if they dun' keep their word to ya? Will ya stay wi' 'em, or will ya defect like tha others an' go into hiding?"

"I don't know." Grell answered honestly. "I would like to say I would defect and run, but I can't say for sure. I suppose it would depend on the moment. And if anyone else was involved at the time. I am willing to do anything to keep Will alive and safe. If anything happens to him or Ronnie for that matter. I am not above slaughtering the lot of them all to protect my boys. Will may not return my affection, but I have cared for him for so long and I don't take kindly to being double crossed. So they better not try to pull the wool over my eyes. I will paint Dispatch red if they do."

"I'm a little surprised," confessed Eric. "Ya always said if anyone's gonna reap Spears, it'll be you. Or is tha' jus' yer way o' laying claim tae him?" He chuckled and took another bite of his meal.

Unnoticed by the two reaper agents, a raven landed on a branch in the tree shading their picnic spot. The bird watched them with remarkably intelligent, beady eyes as they chatted.

"No. I meant that." Grell chuckled. "That man drives me insane and if anyone is going to reap his ass, it will be me. But not because Dispatch forces my hand."

Eric laughed around his food, and he swallowed and wiped his mouth before responding. "Yer too much, Sutcliff. I know a lot o' reapers tha' would fight ya fer tha privilege though, thanks tae all th' overtime he handed out in the past." He sighed, going melancholy for a moment. "But ya know, I'd rather have Spears back an' breathin' down mah neck than having tae keep bending mah knee tae these bastards tha' took over."

He scratched his goatee and regarded the redhead with concern again. "Jus' keep yer wits about ya when dealing wi' tha Undertaker. He might be a kook, but he's crazy like a fox. Half o' tha' giggling an' drooling is jus' an act. Dinnae forget tha'."

"He is a pussy cat." Grell giggled, taking another bite. But as he glanced down at his bowl, an image of the Undertaker staring back up at him formed in his head. The image was from a memory, the memory of him just before he kissed the redhead. Grell felt warm once more and absentmindedly began to tug on his neck ribbon.

Eric frowned slightly. "If ye say so. I jus' dun' like it; them leaving you tae deal wi' him all on yer own. Dunno wha' ye've go' in mind but…ah, hell. I've said all I can really say 'bout it, haven't I?"

He finished off his lunch and he tossed the container into the nearby park receptacle. Checking his watch, he swore softly. "Shite, we've gone o'er our lunch break. Time tae deal wi' more fookin' questions when I get back. I hope they're no' as suspicious o' ya as they are o' me."

"Oh, umm…" Grell looked up, not having heard what the blond had been saying…only to discover Eric was finished with his lunch and waiting for him. "I'm sorry, I was not paying attention. I really do need to get back though."

Eric nodded, still looking faintly concerned. "Ya sure yer a'right, Grell?"

Grell nodded and smiled. "Yeah, just got a lot on my mind. I am dreading the meeting when I get back. Some big deal, apparently. I can't image what it is. All they do is send me out on 'collections' or lecture me on how important it is to obtain Undertaker."

Eric nearly groaned in sympathy for him, but he had his own problems to contend with and Grell had already assured him that he could handle himself. "Well, we'd best get goin', then. Best not tae give 'em more reason tae grill us, aye?"

"Yes., we should. I am going to get stern lecturing when I get back as is." Grell rolled his eyes and smirked. "I am so bad. One of the days I may need a serious punishing."

* * *

After Grell and Eric left the park, the raven that had been watching them flew away and vanished into thin air—or so it would seem to the eye that knew no better. In actuality, it returned through the portal opened up for it from the mortal realm. It flew over mortal London until it arrived at the south side mortuary, and it dove and flew through an open window in the back to land on the arm of the man that had sent it.

The grinning reaper listened to the raven's squawks and clicks, nodding with interest. "So, I can expect another visit from the little rose, eh? Persistent thing, isn't she?" He scratched his chin. "Or he. I'm still not quite sure about that. Makes no never mind to me, though. I'd be happy to provide some punishment if the lady so desires it."

He'd gladly lift Grell's skirts regardless of what was under them, if the opportunity presented itself.

"Ah, focus, old chap," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Goodness, he should be too old to get so distracted by a pair of legs and long hair. He fed his companion a treat of dried meat from the bowl on the counter as a reward for his work.

"Go and tell your fellows to keep a sharp eye out," instructed the Undertaker. "I want to know the moment any Dispatch agent comes within blocks of my property—particularly _that_ agent."

The raven cawed and flew back out the window to do his bidding. When it was gone, Undertaker closed the window and he went into the shop portion of his property to sit down at his desk and dial up one of the phone numbers he'd memorized.

"It's me," he said when someone picked up on the other line. "Tell Mr. Spears I have news for him. Your next safe haven would be Budapest. I wouldn't advise you chaps to stay in one location for too much longer. Word has it they're planning to close in on Denmark branches soon and I can't say how much longer you have before the net starts to close. Don't think they have any idea you're all there yet, but I wouldn't count on Copenhagen remaining safe for too much longer. Eh? Budapest is in Hungary, lad. Yeah, that's right."

He sighed. "I don't care how bloody inconvenient you think it is. Unless you blokes and the ladies with you want to trek through Germany—which is completely taken over, by the way—it's the nearest locale with a clear enough path for you. Trust me, I haven't lived this long by making wild guesses, despite my reputation. Just relay that information to Chilly Willy for me, and tell him I've started keeping an eye on his little friend Sutcliff and the Scotsman. Ta."

He hung up the phone and tapped his long nails on his desk. Again, he wondered why he was helping these outcasts. So much for staying perfectly neutral in this.

* * *

Lawrence Anderson gestured for Grell to come in when the crimson reaper opened the door. "Please have a seat, Officer Sutcliff. I shall try to make this brief, so that we may both get on with our duties."

He opened up a folder filled with documents and he slid it over his desk, turning it around so that Grell could look through the paperwork. "First, I regret to inform you that your request to bring your former companion back from the dead simply cannot be granted…unless you manage to procure the loyalty of the Undertaker. He is the only one with the potential to actually accomplish such a feat. Bear it in mind that this isn't exactly a 'no'. I'm merely informing you that if you want the organization to fulfill that particular bargain, you must fulfill yours as well."

Grell's lip curled as he took a seat and ignored the file. He looked over at the graying reaper in front of him and growled. "I am well aware of that fact, _Mister Anderson_. I do not need to be reminded, yet again. And as I said before, I will get Undertaker to join Dispatch. Don't you worry that little _old_ head of yours. I'll be returning to his shop after I leave here. Though it wouldn't hurt to offer him something else. He has already stated that he needs nothing that you have already offered."

Anderson smiled in a manner that was particularly chilling, for a man that was once so beloved and respected by so many. "There is one thing that could yet be offered to him, Sutcliff." He nodded at the documents again. "Two, in point of fact. You may present the photographs inside to him, and then use whatever means necessary to sweeten the deal. Let him know that if he cooperates, he will be issued one of these very special scythes. They're far more conventional than any model created up to now."

Peeking at the pictures, Grell's eyes widened and then he looked up at his new boss. "How? How are you making those into scythes?" He pointed to one of the photos of the newly designed scythes. "Those are mortal weapons. They are not made for reaping. Are you and the others loosing your oversized, fucking heads? Undertaker will never accept that as a bargaining chip. Nor do I. I won't use one of those things. My scythe has been adapted for my taste. I won't be a coward and take my targets out from a distance."

He pushed his chair back and stood, walking to the window he leaned against the frame. His arms crossed over his chest as he peered out through the tinted glass. "I need a better offer for him. I can sweeten it only so far without sleeping with him."

Lawrence drummed his fingers on his desktop impatiently. "I really don't care about your personal opinion concerning the new scythes, Sutcliff; and neither does the board. For that matter, we don't care _how_ you win the Undertaker over, just so you do it. If your body is the only bargaining chip you are prepared to use, so be it. I merely offer this as a last ditch alternative to spare you the indignity. If you aren't prepared to deliver your end of this bargain, then consider the other conditions of your contract null and voice. You may even find yourself making the list of officers to be replaced, if you aren't careful with how you handle this."

Grell spun around and glared at the reaper. The curls dangling from his ponytail bobbing from the movement. He uncrossed his arms and marched over to the desk, slamming his fists down up the glass top. His lip curled once more in disgust.

"Fine. I will present your new so called scythes to him and if that is not enough…I will seduce him."

Anderson nodded in approval. "Good luck to you, then."

* * *

Alexander covered his mouth on a yawn, blinking tired eyes at the computer screen as he searched through the database he'd broken into. He reached for his coffee, grimacing at the bitter flavor as he swallowed. He was more of an energy drink kind of guy, but he sadly had no access to that here and he had to settle for instant coffee, instead.

"I don't know why I let them talk me into this," he complained as he searched through the files for anything that might give them a heads-up on the enemy's next move. Spears was right, though; there best bet on staying under the radar was to stay a step ahead of enemy authorities and see them coming before they even moved in on them.

That logic was never more accurate than now, he discovered, as he found something that made his eyes widen. "Oh shit…they're here already."

Alexander adjusted the cap on his head and he snatched up his pen, putting it between his teeth for a moment while he searched for his pad of paper. He took the pen in hand and he wrote down the coordinates he'd found, cursing under his breath. Hoping he was wrong, he hacked into the signal he'd found and he put his headphones on, turning the volume up on the laptop to hear it better.

"Shit!" He tore the headphones off and got out of his chair, stumbling in his haste and nearly pitching forward onto his face. He closed the laptop, unplugged it from the wall and stuffed it into its carry bag.

It seemed they should have heeded the Undertaker's warning a bit sooner and moved on…but they still had time to get out if they moved fast.

* * *

Alan was feeling strangely out of breath as he packed up a box of important provisions they needed to take with them on their run to a new location. He'd only packed and moved three boxes, but it felt as if he'd done thirty as he closed up the top of the box with packing tape and heaved it into his arms. A slight sweat broke out over his skin as he slowly made his way over to set the box down next to their soon-to-be former main room.

"Hey—you okay, Al?" Ron asked, having just come out of his and William's former shared room with the last of the things they had kept in there, "You seem…tired. Did you not get enough sleep?"

"I'm fine, don't worry." Alan reassured him, "You should work with Mister Spears to start moving these through to the new location. We're using a portal, right?"

"Fastest way." Ron nodded.

"Then I'll get the rest of the things packed up and ready to be moved with young Jeffries." Alan set down the box in the pile and walked back into the back room that had been his shared bedroom while they were there. "That box ready to be taken out?" He asked Alex, and when the reaper nodded, he bent over to pick it up.

However, half-way to the door, He doubled over, gasping as a sharp pain shot through not his heart, but his gut. "Ahg!"

Jeffries rushed to his side to support him. "Yikes…easy there," said the auburn-haired reaper as he helped Alan to set the box down. "What happened? Did you strain your back or something? Is it the Thorns? Do I need to get someone?"

There weren't really any certified Shinigami doctors they could turn to, but a couple of the reapers that had joined their ragtag group had medical training. Both of them had been nurses, before they fled London after the doctor they worked under disappeared.

Alan shook his head, holding his lower stomach, "No…I just…cramped up or something…It's not Thorns or my back…" He set down the box and took a deep breath, "I don't…normally get cramps…it's…I should be fine, it's just odd…"

Alexander lifted his cap to comb his bangs back under them and out of the way, and he reached into his pocket for the little salt container he kept there. He pinched some of the white substance out of it and threw it over his shoulder. "I don't want to tell you what to do, but you haven't seen a real doctor for a checkup since this started, right? I think maybe you should take it easy and let the rest of us do the lifting, just to be safe."

"But then I'd be dumping all the work onto everyone else. It isn't right, and it's not like it's my illness. It's just I've been getting cramps the past two days and feel tired randomly…I'll be fine. I'm sure it will pass."

Jeffries still looked concerned, but he sighed and nodded. "If you say so, I can dig it. At least stick to the lighter things, okay?"

He picked up the heavier box that Alan had been attempting to lift earlier, and he carried it out to be transported through the portal with the rest of them.

Alan sighed, taking a deep breath and tried to suppress the painful cramps before getting up and moving to find a lighter box. He would take a nice hot soak in a tub once they got all moved in order to ease the cramps.

* * *

-To be continued


End file.
